


Last Names

by DonTheRock



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Half-Siblings, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Love, M/M, Siblings, Teen Romance, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-06-27 00:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 25,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19779946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonTheRock/pseuds/DonTheRock
Summary: TJ Kippen and Buffy Driscoll, two teens who aren't exactly friends, both grew up without knowing their fathers. When their mothers cross paths, they realize that they may share more than just their love for basketball.With both their worlds turning upside down, TJ and Buffy must get past their differences and learn to get along. While dealing with boys, school and family, they learn that they may not know the full story about each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**TJ's POV**

The girls run across the court, passing the basketball between each other until it's swiped by the other team, which only takes about ten seconds. Buffy is the only one who isn't constantly on the edge of double dribbling. She's the best on the team, but I admitted her skill a bit too late for her to get over how I treated her like shit when she was on the boys' team, and she's too stubborn to even consider that I might've actually changed. 

The only reason I'm here is because Cyrus invited me, and I'll take any chance to spend time with him, even if that chance does involve watching his obnoxious friend's basketball game. Cyrus is worth a lot more than some dumb feud. I just wish Buffy would see that, but she's too busy dwelling on the past. 

After finding Cyrus on the bleachers, I go up to sit down beside him. Andi and Jonah are both too focused on the game to notice me, but Cyrus gives me a smile immediately. 

"I thought you might not come," he says. "I know you aren't exactly Buffy's biggest fan."

"She's your friend," I respond, "so I want her to like me."

"She doesn't have to like you for me to be friends with you," Cyrus reminds me. 

"I know." _But I don't want to just be friends with you._ "I don't like having bad blood. I'd rather this stupid rivalry, or whatever we have, just be over."

"You actually care what Buffy thinks of you?"

"I'd rather not have your best friend talking shit about me to you," I admit, "since that'd probably influence what you think of me."

"Not really," Cyrus counters. "I became friends with a girl she used to think was a snorpion even though she didn't like her."

That's comforting to hear that I don't have to worry too much about Buffy getting in the way of me trying to be with Cyrus. But still, being friends with your friend's enemy is a lot different than dating them. I'd rather not have Buffy ranting to Cyrus about how much she hates me. 

"Hey," Andi suddenly chirps, pointing toward the doors to the gym, "Buffy's mom came."

I look over to the woman trying to walk toward the bleachers without diverting any attention away from the game. She gives Buffy a wave when Buffy looks over, and the teenager lights up. Unfortunately, her distraction gives the other team the opportunity to snatch the ball from her, and Buffy goes running after it. 

"She hasn't been able to come to see any of her games," Andi goes on. "Buffy must be so happy."

"Didn't her mom come to the boys' games when she was on the team?" I cut in. 

"That was her aunt," Cyrus explains. "She stayed with her while her mom was away."

"What about her dad?" 

"He left when she was young," Cyrus answers, "but she doesn't like to talk about that."

"Sorry," I say, feeling bad for bringing it up. 

"Did your parents come to your games?" Cyrus asks, trying to change the conversation onto a lighter note. 

"My mom did," I say. "She came to every game."

"Where was your dad?" 

"Brookfield Cemetery," I reply. 

When Cyrus's eyes turn sad, I realize I should probably explain more to ease his worry. 

"He died when I was a baby," I say. "It's nothing new. I've gotten past it."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Cyrus mutters. 

"It's how it is," I say with a shrug. "Don't worry about it."

"Well, I have two dads, so I have plenty to share."

I put my arm around Cyrus and give his shoulders a squeeze, but then I get nervous and take my hand back for myself. 

"Thanks," I say.

He reflects my smile but looks back toward the game long before I'm ready to let his eyes go. Then again, I could look at him for hours and not get bored of the sight.

_________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

I pass the ball to Kaitlin, and she looks at me with confusion, unsure what I want her to do. I point at the net, and she makes an 'O' with her mouth in realization. With only seven seconds left in the game, she needs to take a shot. I hold my breath as the ball leaves her hands and flies toward the net. It bounces off the rim, once, twice, then falls through the hoop. Her jaw drops to the floor when she realizes that she just made a basket, and our whole team engulfs her in a hug before lifting her up into the air. 

The other team cheers too when the buzzer goes off, but that's because they beat us by thirty-two points. We're just happy for Kaitlin, no matter what the final score ended up being. 

After setting her back down, the team disperses to go talk to their friends and families. I feel a hand tap my shoulder and turn to see Marty smiling at me. 

"Yo, you guys killed it!" he cheers. 

"We lost," I tell him. 

"I know," he says. "They crushed you. But the effort was there."

I give his shoulder a playful shove, laughing along with him. Suddenly, my attention is stolen when I see my mother walking up behind him, and I dart around my friend to give my mom a hug. 

"I wasn't expecting you to come!" I say. 

"I was able to go home early, and I didn't want to miss your game," Mom explains. "I'm sorry I missed the first part."

"It's okay," I say as I let her go. "I'm just happy you came."

"Me too, and I was thinking I'd take my beautiful basketball captain of a daughter out to dinner after. What do you say?"

"That sounds great!" I respond. "Just let me get changed, and I'll meet you outside."

I give her a wave as I head off toward the locker room, filing in after a few other girls on my team. 

**TJ's POV**

I walk alongside Cyrus down the path just outside the school doors. His shoulders brushes mine, teasing my heart with every touch. I want nothing more in this moment than to just hold his hand. But I can't do that. 

"Hey, I know this really great ice cream place that I've always wanted to go to," Cyrus says. "Any chance you'd want to come with me?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," I reply. 

Right after saying that, I notice my mom standing and waiting by the curb. I'd forgotten that she was planning to pick me up, and I don't want to disappoint her, but I also don't want to leave Cyrus. She'd understand. Well—she'd understand if Cyrus were a girl. 

"Let me just tell my mom that," I say to Cyrus. 

He nods, and I rush ahead to where my mom is. 

"Hi," she says. "How was the game?"

"It was good," I answer. "Hey, is it cool if I hang out with a friend?"

"So you don't want me to drive you?" she says. "I came all the way here for nothing?"

"Yes?" I try, hoping she doesn't get upset with me. 

She folds her arms over her chest and lets out a huff. 

"Alright," she says.

It looks like she's about to say more, but whatever it was slips away when her sight catches on something behind me. I spin around to try to see what she's looking at, but all I see are a few random people walking by and Buffy's mom leaning against the building wall. 

"Who's that?" my mom asks, staring at the curly-haired woman who resembles Cyrus' best friend. 

"That's Buffy's mom," I reply. "Not sure her name."

My mom stares at her for another moment before saying, "Is Buffy that girl who joined the boys' team last year?"

I nod. "That's her."

My mom turns her eyes downward, clearly pondering something. 

Then, after a few seconds, she says, "You and your friend go have fun. I'm going to go home."

She starts off in the direction of the school, and I call after her, "Mom, your car is the other way!"

"I'm just, uh, using the washroom first," she shouts back. 

She spins back around and continues down the pathway. I return to where I left Cyrus, where he's now chatting with Jonah, Andi and Buffy. A look of distaste crosses Buffy's face at the sight of me, but she tones it down more than she usually does, probably because Cyrus is here. 

I decide to ignore how she obviously doesn't want to talk to me, and I say, "That was a good game. You were the best player there."

"Thanks," she replies through a tight jaw. 

Cyrus must be catching on to how much she doesn't want me here, because he turns to me and says, "You ready to go?"

I nod then glance over quickly to school doors where I see my mom walk through. I was about to give her a wave, but she never turns around to see me, so I decide to not bother. Then I notice Buffy's mom stepping out from the school wall, her eyes watching the spot where my mother just was. 

"Hey, do our moms know each other?" I ask to Buffy. 

Buffy doesn't answer, instead turning around to look for her mom who is now going into the school after mine. She returns her eyes to me with a look of confusion and curiosity across her face. 

"I didn't think so," she answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a week to write and it's a slow start. It will get better. Hopefully. Anyway, thanks for reading. Have a great weekend. I'm going to post the first chapter of another story idea I had, so that I can work on that at the same time as this, so yeah. I just really love both these ideas. I love you all! Goodbye!


	2. Chapter 2

**Buffy's POV**

I use the gold-embroidered napkin to wipe up the water I just dripped on the table from my glass. This is my mom's favorite restaurant, though it's far too fancy for my liking. Glass lights dangle over our heads like stars falling from the sky. My mother looks through the steak section of the menu while I try to find a basic pasta to eat. 

"I can't believe my daughter is a basketball star," my mom comments. 

"It's middle school basketball," I remind her, "not the olympics."

"I'm still proud of you."

"Thanks," I say. 

I never thought she'd be this happy to see me play one of my games, especially considering we lost. I was clearly mistaken about how much of a proud mom she could be. 

"You got almost all of your team's points," Mom goes on.

"If I were still playing with TJ, I'd have to fight to even touch the ball," I say with a chuckle. "So I'm glad you came to this game instead of one of those."

"Oh, he can't be that bad," Mom insists. "It looked like he was cheering you on."

"He was only doing that because he's friends with Cyrus," I respond. "He doesn't actually care."

"Well, if he's as horrible as you say he is, why would Cyrus be friends with him?"

"Because Cyrus could look at a pile of ashes and insist that it's not burnt, just blackened." 

My mom laughs and looks back down at her menu, but I'm reminded of something I was curious about earlier. 

"Hey, do you know TJ's mom?" I ask. "I saw you look at her."

My mom seems surprised by the question and takes a few seconds to reply. 

"Yes, I thought she looked familiar," she says. "It turns out we went to high school together."

"Wow. Small world, I guess."

She puts on a grin, saying, "Yeah." 

Then she points to her menu and changes the subject.

"Wow, this looks yummy."

Obviously, there's something she's not telling me. She can lie to anyone easily, but she's always had a harder time lying to me. I decide to let it slide for now, tucking it away in my mind to bring up later. 

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Cyrus' hand keeps touching mine as we walk back to my house, and I'm not sure whether he means to do it or if he's even noticing it, but I'm struggling to pay attention to his words and not everything else about him. I've already studied his face, from the mole on his cheek to the soft slope of his nose, but I somehow can't stop staring. 

"I can't believe I get to finally see where you live," Cyrus says. "I can see if it's like what I pictured."

"Well, what did you picture?" I wonder. 

"You know Spongebob's house?"

"Yeah."

"That," he says.

"You thought I lived in a pineapple?" I ask with a laugh.

He shrugs and lets out a giggle. "I imagined it."

"Well, sorry," I say. "You're about to be disappointed."

"You could never disappoint me," he cuts in. 

"That's a lie," I say.

"Okay, maybe you've disappointed me before, but you only get better."

I look away to hide to blush spreading across my face. Cyrus always makes me feel like I'm floating, so much so that sometimes I wonder if the ground really is lifting beneath me. I wonder if he sees it, or if he's completely oblivious to the way the world glows when he touches it. 

"Is your family like you?" Cyrus asks. 

"My mom is one of the best people I know," I tell him. "She works really hard to support me, and she's made me everything I am."

"She sounds pretty great," Cyrus responds. "I know I saw her earlier, but do I get to meet her?"

"Maybe," I answer. "If she's home, which she probably is."

Cyrus smiles wide as we come up to the pathway to my home. Halfway to the door, he slows and turns to me. 

"I'm nervous," he says. "Why am I nervous?" 

"I don't know," I respond. "Why are you nervous?"

"I don't know," he utters. "Were you nervous when you met my parents?"

"A little." _A lot._

"This feels like I'm going to a job interview," Cyrus jokes. 

"And what job would you be trying to get?" I say with a chuckle. 

Cyrus laughs instead of answers the question, although I really wish he would explain a bit more. I unlock the front door and push it open, gesturing for him to go in first. 

Cyrus pauses in the entryway to gaze around at the humble interior. To his right, a small living room with one couch, a television, and a bookcase is coloured by yellow lamp light. To his left, a thin hallway extends, leading into the kitchen. 

"You want anything to snack on?" I ask him. 

"Well, I did just have ice cream, so maybe just water," he replies. 

"Yeah, sure."

He follows me down the hall. When the wall cuts away, I see my mother standing with her back toward me, her blonde locks falling over her shoulders as she stares down at a paper in her hands. I step up closer to get a better look at what it is, and I notice how it gleams like the gloss on a photograph, but I can't get a good view of the image. On the counter in front of her, an unfamiliar, blue box sits opened. 

"What's that?" I ask.

My mom whips around, eyes wide, pressing the photo to her chest to hide it. 

"TJ," she says. "I didn't realize you were home already."

"Yeah, Cyrus and I are gonna watch a movie," I tell her. "What's the picture?"

"Oh, nothing."

She glances down at the paper in her hands then spins back around and lowers it back into the blue box, careful to keep me from seeing it. 

"Just an old memory," she says. 

"Memory of what?" I pry, confused as to why she's acting so strange. 

"Uh, just my cheerleading days back in high school," Mom explains, turning back to face me. "I'd argue that we were Philadelphia's best team."

She holds the box tight under one arm while smiling innocently. 

"Right," I say, not believing her answer at all. 

"Well," she says, ignoring the skeptical look on my face, "you boys have fun. I'm going to hit the hay."

She rushes past me, giving Cyrus no more than a nod of acknowledgment as she slips by him down the hall toward the stairwell. Cyrus comes over to me after, looking concerned. 

"Was it something I did?" he asks quietly. 

I put my hands on his shoulders, wishing I could force away the sad expression on his face, but he only seems to tense more at my touch, so I bring my arms back down and simply shake my head. 

"No," I reply. "I don't know why she was being so weird."

He glances behind him down the hall once more before returning his eyes to me. 

"I assume you want to find out," he says. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is short. There's a lot of stuff coming up that I'm trying to fit together right now, so I need some build up to get to that, and I thought I should end the chapter here before getting into the next part. I love you all a lot! Thank you so much for reading! Only one more episode left before the series is complete. It won't be done, because I don't believe anything is every truly done, but it will be complete and whole, and that's both exciting and scary at the same time. Have a good day and night and evening and afternoon. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Buffy's POV**

The locker door rattles as I open it and shove my backpack inside. 

"I know nothing about Aztec history, but somehow I have to do a project on it to prep for some book," I complain. 

Marty listens tentatively, but the grin on his face seems to clash with my current feelings on my situation. 

"Do you like seeing me stressed?" I question. 

His smile cracks into a small laugh. "Buffy, you know you'll do fine. You always do fine."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," I respond. 

"Speaking of the Aztecs," he says, "There's this new roller rink next to my sister's store that opened last week. Do you wanna go after school?"

"Marty, that has nothing to do with the Aztecs."

"My sister owns a chocolate store," he reasons. 

I grin at that, accepting the fact that that's probably as closely related the two topics will get.

"Sounds fun," I say. "Can I invite Andi, Cyrus and Jonah too?"

His smile falters a little, and he hesitates for a second before replying, "Sure, yeah."

"Buffy!" comes a voice behind me. 

I spin around to see Kaitlin speed-walking past the other kids in the hall to get to me. When she reaches me, she puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Colton is coming," she alerts me. "Act natural."

I roll my eyes as she crosses her arms and leans against the lockers, pretending not to notice as the boy comes around the corner. Kaitlin seems to be the only girl whose glance he doesn't steal, but I know she's working hard to keep herself from looking over. Even I find myself watching as the attractive boy with the chiselled jaw and crooked smile. 

I only realize I'm staring when I hear Marty let out a huff and shake his head, but it's too late to do anything, because Colton's walking past me now. To my surprise, he notices me and gives me a nod.

"Hey," he says. 

"Uh, hi," I respond. 

He smiles at me for another second before continuing on down the hall. Immediately when he's gone, Kaitlin turns to me and squeals, which makes my grin expand times a hundred, but Marty isn't impressed. 

"What's the big deal with Colton?" Marty groans. 

"Well," Kaitlin starts, "he's the captain of the soccer team, not to mention really cute, and did you see those eyes?"

"I don't get it," Marty says. "Why do girls fall all over him?"

"It's a huge popularity thing," I say. "He commands respect and attention, so if you're with him, you're everything."

"Exactly," Kaitlin agrees. "Like, if I were dating him, people might actually start to respect the girls' basketball team."

"He seems pretty arrogant if you ask me," Marty comments. 

Kaitlin tilts her head, saying, "You don't need to feel threatened by him—"

"I'm not threatened by him," Marty denies. 

"Of course not," Kaitlin says sarcastically. Then she looks to me. "I'm gonna head to class.. I'll see you later."

She spins around and takes off toward her first class, and I return to the conversation Marty and I were having before Kaitlin showed up. 

"Where can me and my friends meet you after school?" I ask. 

"Um," Marty replies, "I actually forgot about something I have to do today. Uh, my grandma's coming over."

"Oh," I respond, a little disappointed. "Some other time then."

"For sure," Marty says.

He takes a step backward and turns around to leave. Now alone, I reach into my locker to grab my books for my first class, but then I hear the voice of one of my friends. 

"Ready?" Cyrus asks. 

"Ready," I respond. "Hey, do you guys want to go to The Spoon after school?"

"I would love to," Cyrus answers, "but I can't. I promised I'd help TJ figure out what secrets his mom is keeping from him."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Andi asks. "Don't you think there might be a reason why she's keeping them from him?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure TJ didn't think about that," Cyrus says. 

"Then why don't you tell him?" I suggest.

"Because then he won't need my help," Cyrus replies frankly. 

While Andi and I both share a glance, Cyrus seems to get a little restless and takes a step back. 

"I'm gonna head to class now," he says then zips away before Andi and I can ask more questions. 

"I still can't believe someone like Cyrus is friends with someone like TJ Kippen," I say. 

"I know," Andi agrees. "He was awful to you."

"Too bad I can't choose Cyrus' friends for him," I say before swinging my locker door shut. 

_______________________________________

**TJ's POV**

"Do you see anything?" Cyrus asks. 

I shove the photo albums back into place beside the recipe books, accepting that the blue box isn't anywhere in any of the kitchen cupboards. I just assumed it'd be here since she was looking at it in the kitchen last night, but she must've put it somewhere else. 

"Nope," I answer. 

I see Cyrus' hand appear in the air next to me, and I reach out automatically to grab it and step down off the chair I'm standing on, but then the butterflies inside me realize what's happening, and I stumble backward when my foot hits the ground. Cyrus' free arm catches my back, and I regain my balance, but my heart still seems to think I'm falling—and I guess it's not wrong. 

"Sorry," I say, letting go of Cyrus' hand. 

"It's okay," Cyrus responds. 

His gentle eyes pull me in with such a force that I need to look away in order to keep myself from giving in.

"This is usually where she keeps photos and memories and stuff like that," I say. 

"Okay, but she doesn't want you to find this memory," Cyrus reminds me. "When I was young, sometimes I'd get my toys taken away for misbehaving, and my mom would hide them somewhere I wouldn't find them. When I got older, I figured out that she kept them in her closet, so I started taking them back when I lost them. Maybe your mom has a place like that."

"You're right," I say. "She wouldn't put it somewhere I go."

Cyrus seems to read my mind, because his eyebrows turn up, showing his hesitation to get on board with my thought. 

"Are we about to go through your mom's room?" Cyrus asks. 

"I think I might know where it is," I explain.

I wave for him to follow me, and he does, regardless of the reluctance visible on his face. We make our way up the stairs and through the closed door guarding my mom's humble room. I hardly ever come in here, which is probably why I never knew that there's a giant mirror with a gold frame hanging right by the door. It reflects sunlight from the window onto the floor by the legs of her bed. I step toward the sunspot and kneel down next to where the burgundy quilt hangs down over the floor. 

"This is where she hid my Beyblades after I tried spinning them on Lulu's back."

"Who's Lulu?" Cyrus wonders. 

"She was the cat I had until I was eight."

I hear Cyrus gasp, but I continue with what I'm doing, lowering my head down to peek underneath the bed. Next to a pair of slippers is exactly what I'm looking for. I grab the blue box and drag it out from the shadow and into my lap. 

As I run my hand along the geographic pyrography on the wood, Cyrus sits down beside me. He watches as I undo the latch on the box and open it up. Inside are a few different items, including a gold coin with two poppies imprinted on it and a silver hummingbird necklace. Beneath all of that is a photo. I lift it out, careful not to crumple or bend it at all, and scan the image. 

It's a young version of my mother, sometime around when she was in her late twenties, with her arm wrapped around the waist of a man, one I don't recognize. He has brown hair, cut short and clean, with pale greenish-blue eyes, contrasting my mother's brown ones. They're both smiling together, dressed up in formal wear—my mom in a shiny white dress, and the man in a black suit and tie.

"Who is that?" Cyrus asks. 

"I don't know," I answer. 

All of a sudden, I hear the squeak of the front door opening downstairs. My mom must be home. 

"Shit," I mutter. 

I should put the photo back inside of the box, but something about it makes me slide it into my back pocket instead. After doing that, I scramble to shut the wooden top and shove it back under the bed. Then I spring up onto my feet and run out of my mom's room and toward my own, pulling Cyrus along behind me by his hand. Once in my own room, I drop my friend's grip and plop down onto my bed, but Cyrus remains standing, gazing around at the space, from the shelf of CDs, tapes and records to the keyboard under the window. I forgot that he's never seen my room before. 

"TJ?" comes a shout. 

My mom's face appears in my doorframe, and Cyrus spins around to see her while I look over from my bed, trying to act unsuspicious. 

"Oh, hi, Cyrus," my mom says when she sees him.

"Mom," I say, "I thought you were seeing your friend."

"I was," she replies. "Shelly's doing good. I am going out again, though, because she invited me to the hotel for some awards ceremony."

Shelly, my mom's friend, owns a hotel. It's one of those expensive ones for people with expensive cars and expensive suits who just want to prove how much money they have. Though the opposite of the hotel's regular visitors, my mom gets invited to attend events there sometimes. 

"Cool," I say. "Have fun."

"Thanks," she says. 

Then she remembers something else and explains, "Your Aunt Debby called. It turns out my sisters are cleaning out your grandma's house this weekend. I asked if they could do it another time, but you know how they are, so, unfortunately, I'll have to fly out there for a few days, starting Saturday."

"Oh, okay," I say, not really sure what else to add. 

My grandma's been dead for a few months now. They do have to go through her house eventually. 

"The problem is," she goes on, "I'm not sure where you'll stay."

"I'm good alone."

"I'm not leaving you home alone for five days without supervision," my mom states. 

"Mom, I'll be fine," I insist. 

"I'll find somewhere for you to stay," my mom says. "I'm not sure where, but I'll figure it out. Anyway, I have to go now. I'll see you later tonight."

"Bye."

She blows me a kiss before walking out of the doorway. Cyrus comes over and drops down beside me on the bed. 

"Where is your grandma's house?" he asks. "It must be far if she has to fly there."

"A town in Northern Georgia that I don't remember the name of," I reply. 

"Wait, isn't your mom's name Georgia?" Cyrus asks. 

"We all have weird names," I confess. 

"Oh, yeah?" he says with a grin. "What's yours?"

"That's on a need-to-know basis," I say with a small chuckle. 

He giggles a little and sets his hand down on the bed between us, accidentally touching the edge of my fingers with his. My eyes instantly fall down to where our hands collide, and I expect him to move his any second now, but when he doesn't, my sight rises back up to his face. 

"You could stay with me, you know," he says, breaking the silence. "I don't think my parents would mind."

My ability to speak is tangled up inside everything I'm feeling right now, but I manage piece together enough words to respond, "I might take you up on that offer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, um, so the finale was my heart and soul and my entire being. Tyrus is finally cannon, and I'm freaking melting. I loved all of it, and I want you all to keep in mind that Andi Mack didn't end. It can never end, because it will always exist. Now it's just complete, and we don't have to wait to hear the rest anymore. We have it all, and we can do anything with the show and those characters and their stories. Andi Mack is such an amazing show, and I'm so glad to have found it, and I'm so glad to have found all of you who constantly make my day every time you comment or talk to me or read my stories. I love you all! I'll see you soon with the next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Buffy's POV**

The chirp of a bird catches my attention, and I glance up to see it flapping its way from one tree to the next. The way it flies reminds me of a leaf trapped on the wind, going up and down without aim. But the bird reaches the other tree nonetheless.

With none of my friends wanting to go to The Spoon, I decided just to go home, so I travel in no rush down the well-known sidewalk to get to a particular place at no particular time. As I walk, a woman I recognize emerges out from behind a large, flowering shrub. The woman's straw sunhat covers her face, showing only her brown hair curling upon her shoulders. Her orange gloves pat down the dirt around some tulips in the garden. She only notices me approach when I speak.

"Hi."

Evelyn, Marty's mother, stops her work to look up and give me a smile.

"Hi, Buffy!"

I scan the empty flower pot next to her and the new flowers in the garden that I don't recall seeing before. 

"Doing some planting?" I ask. 

"I am," she replies. "I liked these tulips in the store, but do you think the colour clashes with the blue bells?"

"No, I think they're great," I assure her. "The pink compliments the blue well."

"I'm glad you think so. I wasn't sure."

"I'm sure," I say. 

"Thank you," she responds. "Now, you're probably looking for Marty."

"Oh, no, it's okay. I don't want to intrude when he's with his grandma."

"His grandma?" she says with eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "He's doing homework."

That takes me by surprise, but I don't say anything. His mom's reaction leads me to believe that she wasn't aware of Marty's grandma coming over. Either that or Marty lied, which is probably more likely. But why would he lie about that? He's the one who invited my friends and I to hang out after school. Why would he want to make up an excuse to cancel?

"Oh," I mutter, "right."

"I'll call him down for you," Evelyn says.

She steps off the lawn and onto the stone pathway that leads up to the front door of the house. I wait outside while she disappears into the building to find her son. 

Suddenly, one of the engines from the street cuts out directly behind me, and I turn around to see Marty's older brother, Grayson, step out of his car. He swirls his keys around on his finger, catching them as he gives me a nod.

"'Sup, Buffy."

"Hey, Grayson."

"You waiting for Marty?"

"Yup."

He grins as he walks past me and says, "He's probably gonna be another hour. Gotta make sure his hair is perfect for you, you know?"

Grayson chuckles as he enters into his home, leaving me a little confused at his last phrase. I don't have long to think about it, though, because Marty shows up on the porch and gives me an awkward smile when he sees me.

"Buffy, what are you doing here?"

"I was on my way home and saw you mom gardening," I say. "I wasn't going to bother you since you were with . . . your grandma. But your mom said you weren't with her."

He freezes, obviously not prepared with a response, before finally saying, "It turns out she's coming a different day."

I cross my arms, not believing a word. "Yeah? What day?"

"Uh . . . Friday."

I tilt my head, staring at my friend skeptically. "You have a dentist appointment on Friday."

"Uh . . ." Marty tries to find a new direction to go with this lie, but I stop him with a groan of annoyance. 

"Marty, why did you lie?"

"I didn't lie. I—" He sighs. "I lied, because . . . I promised my mom I'd help her with her gardening, but I forgot about that when I asked you earlier if you wanted to hang out."

Marty's mom comes back outside at the perfect moment to catch Marty in his lie.

"You're going to help me out?" Evelyn says. "Then grab some gloves. There are some alliums in pots in the backyard that I want planted."

I smirk as Marty's mouth drops open. He's now stuck in this story, so I don't feel the need to push him any further for an answer.

"Great!" I say, my eyes still burning through Marty. "I'll help too."

Marty looks ready to try to get himself out of this, but I think he's all out of fuel, because he submits to his mother's request and follows me around to the backyard. Past the stone patio with a fire pit in the centre of it, the usually-bare lawn holds several flower pots and tools. I kneel down to get a better look at the purple and white mixture of petals by my feet.

"I love the dark purple ones," I say.

Marty grins. "Yeah?"

Then he reaches down and puts his hand on the stem of one of the flowers, snapping the green in two. 

"What are you doing?" I ask, shooting up to my feet. 

He holds the flower out.

"For you."

"Do you steal all the gifts you give to people?" I joke.

I reach out to take it, but he pulls it away, back toward himself. 

"Just for that, it's not for you anymore," he says with a grin. 

My jaw falls open, and he chuckles, but I refuse to let it go so easily. I swipe for the flower, but he moves it away, lifting it above his head. I put one hand on his shoulder to help launch myself up to snatch the flower, but he turns, making me lose my balance. Instantly, his arms wrap around me, stopping me from tumbling over, but his kindness was a mistake on his part, because I spin to face him right as I tear the flower from his hand which holds my waist. I'm still locked in his arms as I lift the flower and give it a sniff, smiling at my victory. 

"I win," I say. 

Marty shakes his head as he lets me go, trying to hide the smile on his face, and I step back, still looking at him. 

"Not everything's a competition," he reminds me. 

"I know," I reply, "but this is."

We both laugh again.

I'm about to kneel down to sit the flower on the grass when I feel a buzz in my pocket. I pull out my phone to see a message from my mom.

 **Mom:** When are you coming home? There's something I have to talk to you about.

"I think I actually have to go," I say to Marty. "My mom wants me home."

He looks concerned, asking, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's probably nothing," I respond, my voice sounding very unconvincing. What if she's going to say that she's going away again? I like having her here, and she hasn't been home for near long enough yet. Maybe I'm overreacting. She could just be mad that I forgot to do the dishes last night. 

"I'll see you tomorrow," I say. 

I take a step back but don't turn around yet, waiting for Marty to say his goodbye.

"See you," he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing to say other than thank you all for reading! I'm going to try to update more frequently, but who knows how that'll go. Bye!


	5. Chapter 5

**TJ's POV**   
  
  


When I hear the door open and close downstairs, I practically leap from my desk chair into my bed, tossing my phone onto my bedside table at the same time. I manage to get myself underneath the covers right before my mother knocks on the door, and she opens it to find me in bed right where I should be at this time of night.

"You're still awake," my mom notices.

"Yeah," I respond. "Can't seem to fall asleep."

She peers at me for another second before she folds her arms over her chest.

"Maybe that's because you're trying to go to sleep in your clothes instead of pyjamas."

I let out a nervous laugh then give up, admitting, "Okay, I wasn't sleeping."

I sit up and pull the covers away while my mom comes over to sit down across from me on the bed. Usually she'd be telling me to have a good night and leaving, but it seems like she has more on her mind than just that.

"I think it's time I explain something to you," she says.

I can't think of what she could be talking about, not until she pulls out a small photograph from her back pocket and holds it out for me to see. It's the same picture that Cyrus and I looked at earlier today, but she doesn't know I've seen it already, so I sit quiet.

"This is your father," she says.

Suddenly, my silence becomes involuntary. I don't know what to say, for she somehow managed to stun my words away. All I can get out are the tears I can't hold back. I've never seen my dad before, and my mom never told me much about him.

"Why are you only showing me this now?" I finally ask.

Her eyes gleam with tears like mine as she stares at me with no answer prepared.

"You said you didn't have any photos of him," I go on. "You said you lost them all." My voice cracks as I feel my throat tighten under the anger I feel simmering beneath my skin.

My mom looks down as she replies, "I was ashamed."

"Ashamed of what?" I question. "What are you talking about?"

She looks back up at me with a sniffle, her eyes dripping with emotion now.

"TJ, your father didn't die."

"What?" I croak. "Did he leave?"

"No," Mom whispers. "I—I didn't tell him about you."

"Why not?" I ask. "Did he not want me?"

"It's not that," Mom insists. "You see, your father had a life, and I thought that me having a baby would impede on that, so I thought it would be best if I kept you a secret."

"What do you mean? What life did he have that I couldn't be a part of?"

"He had a family," my mother quickly answers. "A different family. But I didn't know that until after I was pregnant. I was going to tell him about you, but then I found out about his wife and that she had a little baby girl already on the way."

I stay quiet, not knowing what to say. My mom lied to me about my dad for 13 years. She let me dream that he was this nobel, good-hearted man, but he was the exact opposite. He was a cheating piece of dirt who never even wanted me to exist, and my mother made me believe he actually cared about us when he didn't. He never did.

When I don't say anything, my mother starts talking. "I understand that you probably need some time—"

"I do need time," I cut her off.

Immediately, I stand up and start walking toward the door.

"Where are you going?" my mom asks, her worry apparent in her voice.

"I don't know," I snap. "I need space."

A bang rings out as I slam the door shut behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mother flinch at the noise before she's completely blocked out of sight.

________________________________________

Cyrus steps outside the moment I reach his front porch. His eyes are curious but comforting, making me feel instantly more at ease with everything. He always makes me feel that way. Whenever anything is going wrong, I know that he is right. I want to just hug him and hold him close to me—for him to push away the bad things and replace them with his good—but I keep my distance.

"What's wrong?" Cyrus asks. "Your text seemed urgent."

"I just needed someone to talk to," I respond. Then I add in a mumble, "Or scream to."

Cyrus smiles gently, saying, "Well, my parents are sleeping, so maybe hold back on screaming."

I laugh, feeling the tenseness in my chest loosen before pulling tight again a moment later. I walk over to lean my elbows on the porch railing.

"Thanks," I say. 

Cyrus furrows his brows, asking, "For what?"

"For making me smile."

Cyrus comes over and takes the space on the railing next to me, his soft eyes making the air feel less stiff. 

"You're welcome," he says. Then he follows with, "What's going on?"

I let the night air fill the silence for a moment as it brushes between the trees. There are no engines or voices of others getting in the way of Mother Nature's song right now. The only other instrument is the sound of Cyrus' quiet breathing, but, personally, I think that makes the song better. 

"I found out who the guy in the photo is," I explain. "It's my dad."

"Haven't you seen your dad before?" Cyrus wonders. 

I shake my head, my eyes falling down to the flowers below. 

"My mom said she lost all the photos of him," I say. "Turns out she lied about that. She also lied about him being dead. He actually never knew I existed."

"Your mom didn't tell him about you? Why?"

"Because he was married," I answer bluntly. "And not to her."

Cyrus sucks in a breath and says, "Oh."

"My dad was just an unfaithful prick who didn't want me at all," I mutter.

I feel Cyrus' eyes on me while I pick at the paint on the railing with my fingernail. It doesn't matter that he's not saying anything. I don't know what he could possibly say to help make things better at this point. He can't change the past. He can't go back and make my father want me. He can't go back and stop me from being born and wrecking the image of the perfect family my dad wanted to uphold. 

Eventually, Cyrus does speak, and what he says gives me chills. "Your dad missed out on something amazing."

Then I'm knocked off guard by Cyrus' hand sliding into mine and locking into place. I look up at him, wondering if he's meaning to do this or if this is just some really complicated accident. _He couldn't be holding hands with me. This is just his pity._ Though his gentle smile calms my nerves, my heartbeat speeds up tenfold. Whether this is real or not, I can't bring myself to let go, so I let him pull me down so deep until I know I'll need his help to swim back up again later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I had a hair crises. I got my hair dyed, but I wanted it light brown, but the lady wanted to make it dark, and I was too passive to say no, so now I have dark hair, and I absolutely hate it so much. I've been crying for the past day every time I walk by a mirror. So now I'm going to get it fixed. Please wish me luck. (Three hours later) Okay, I got it fixed. I like it a lot more now. Life is dandy again. I love you all. Have a good day!


	6. Chapter 6

**Buffy's POV**

As I approach the school, I see Andi and Jonah sitting at a picnic table and go over to join them. They smile when they spot me, and I force a smile back. I want to be happy and forget about how my life just got completely turned on its head yesterday evening, but I find it hard to move past this knowing that I could see someone soon whom I really don't want to see. 

"Hey," Andi says. "What's up?"

"Not much," I lie. 

"You look tired," Jonah comments, which earns him a glare from Andi. 

"I didn't get much sleep last night," I admit. 

"Ignore him," Andi says. "You look great."

I give her a gracious smile. "Thanks. But I know that's a lie."

"Well, I tried," she sighs. "What kept you up?"

I sit down across from them at the table and drop my head into my hands. 

"Uh, just a lot of homework," I say, even though I know that's not at all true. 

"That's annoying," Andi mutters. "Teachers shouldn't assign so much that it keeps their students from getting enough sleep. It defeats their whole thing about caring for us and our well-being."

"Yeah, totally," I respond, trying to sound like I actually mean it and didn't just make that all up.

"Hey, Cyrus!" Jonah suddenly chirps. 

He gives a shining smile and a wave to his friend whom I spin to see walking toward us alongside the one person I want to avoid: TJ Kippen. While the pair strolls down the sidewalk in our direction, I feel my stomach sink and decide I'd rather be drowning in a hole than facing the blonde basketball captain. 

"I'm gonna go," I say.

Andi looks over at me and sighs as I stand up.

"Come on, Buffy," she says. "I know TJ's not your favorite person, but Cyrus—"

"It's not that," I interrupt. 

"Then what?" Jonah wonders.

I flick my head back to the boys who are almost at the table now before returning my focus to my friends, now feeling rushed. 

"I'll explain another time. I've got to go," I say. 

I turn and zip away just before Cyrus and TJ get to where I was. I know Cyrus is probably going to be disappointed about me leaving, but I just can't be there when TJ's there. I want to hold things still for a little longer before diving into everything that's no doubt going to change. 

I hurry into the school and slip down the crowded hallway. I'm so caught up in going nowhere in particular that I hardly notice my name being called until the source budges in front of me, making me stop in my tracks. 

"Buffy," Marty says, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I reply. 

He shakes his head, not believing me. 

"You seem stressed," he says. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I insist, my impatience becoming more apparent in my voice. 

The pressure of everything I don't want to say gives me a headache, and I force myself to breathe deeper in order to contain all the emotions I'm feeling right now. I left the house feeling stressed, but now the stress is manifesting as anger, and I don't know how to keep myself from taking it out on everyone around me, and that only makes me more upset. Trying to hold back the tears that are fighting to escape, I step around Marty to keep walking, but he cuts me off once more. 

"It's not nothing," he argues. 

"Fine!" I shout, my outburst making Marty take a step back. "You wanna know? I found out last night that I have a brother I never knew about. Now you know!"

Marty stares at me in shock, and I feel my face heating up in embarrassment. Nobody else seemed to notice my explosion, but I want to get away from here regardless. 

"Sorry," I mutter before taking off past my friend. 

I don't know where to go, so I pick a random direction, heading toward the doors to the stairwell. It's the quiet one that hardly anyone uses, making it the perfect place for me to break down against a wall. But I'm unable to do that, for as soon as I enter the echoing corridor, a hand grabs mine and spins me around. 

Marty doesn't say anything. he just looks at me, his eyes soft and worried, looking as though they could be scratched by something as gentle as a blade of grass. And he doesn't care. He lets himself stand as a sunflower in the middle of a hurricane, trusting that the rain will be kind. Luckily for him, I think my storm has run out of water, and I collapse into him, clinging onto him like leftover dewdrops on a flower petal. He returns my hug, bringing me tight into his embrace, and I can feel his breathing in the way his chest rises and falls against mine. He holds me for what feels like a year but couldn't be more than a couple minutes while I cry out the last drops of my turmoil.

Eventually, I let him go and step back, wiping my eyes with my arm. 

"That's why I had to go home yesterday," I mumble. Marty stands quiet, listening, so I begin to explain more. "My dad left my mom and I when I was three. He never even said goodbye. I just woke up one morning, and he was gone."

Marty didn't know that. I've never told him that. But he doesn't have a huge, shocked reaction. He just listens. 

"He was having an affair when I was born," I go on. "My mom knew that, but she never told me of course. Neither of us knew that he had another kid, though."

Finally, Marty speaks up, asking, "How did you find out?"

"My mom knew the woman that he was—" I don't want to finish the sentence "—with. I guess she saw her once when she came to my parents' house, but she never spoke to her. She only saw her again yesterday. And she had a son. And he's the perfect age to be . . ." I've already pieced together this puzzle, but there's something different about saying it all out loud rather than just hearing it from my mother. "He's my brother—half-brother. It's just kind of a lot to process."

"I bet," Marty responds. 

"I don't know how to talk to my mom anymore," I say, somehow not able to hold anything back from my friend. "I feel bad for her, and I'm mad at my dad, but my mom doesn't want me to hate my dad, but I do. I really do, and I don't know how not to."

"You can be mad," Marty tells me. "Anyone who's just gotten news like you have has the right to feel whatever you feel."

Looking at him, I smile my first real smile of the day.

"Thanks," I say. 

"No thanks necessary," he replies, smiling right back. 

Suddenly, the school bell rings, and the rumble of footsteps bleeds through the doors and into the stairwell.

"I need to be getting to class now," I say. "I'll see you later."

I step around him, watching him as I back up toward the door, waiting for him to respond with his own farewell.

"See you," he says.

I smile and turn around to push the door open and enter the busy hallway.

______________________________________

Mr. Corelli writes on the chalk board while going on about the war of 1812, but I haven't actually been paying much attention, because Kaitlin keeps whispering from the desk in front of me, telling me about how she plans to try out for the badminton team.

"I'm just not sure if I'll have time for it," she says, "you know, between school and friends."

"Kaitlin, you're constantly hanging out with people," I respond. "You have the time to spend on a sport instead."

"Yeah, but—"

Kaitlin is cut off by the girl one seat ahead of her whispering, "Psst."

Kaitlin whips around and takes from the girl's hand a little folded up piece of paper. This teacher is really strict about us not using our phones—if he catches one of us on our phone, he takes it and keeps it until the end of the day—so only the rare idiot dares to send a text during this period. Most of us just pass notes, which we've all gotten quite good at doing without Mr. Corelli noticing. 

Kaitlin looks at the writing on the paper, which says who it's for, and furrows her brows in befuddlement. 

"Who's it for?" I ask. 

"Take a look," she replies. 

She passes me the note and I read the writing on top. It's for me. Who would write a note to me? I unfold the paper and inspect the message inside. 

_Lil Wayne concert Sunday night. Wanna come with?  
_ _– Colton_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a cliffhanger this time, which is an accomplishment for me, cause yall know how I'm awful at having cliffhangers, but I'm trying something new, so yeah. Thanks a ton for reading! I really appreciate yall so much, and I'll see yall soon with part 7, which will start getting more interesting [winks].


	7. Chapter 7

**Buffy's POV**  
  
  


I'm in shock when I read the name at the bottom. I don't know who Lil Wayne is, but I sure as hell know who Colton is, and I don't I'd be stupid to say no when a guy like him just asked me out.

I glance over across the room to where the unrealistically pretty boy is staring at me, and I give him a nod, trying not to let myself smile too hard. When I turn back to Kaitlin, she has a look of awe on her face.

"You realize you just get asked out by one of Jefferson's dreamiest guys," she whispers.

I crack into a grin, saying, "I know. I'm in disbelief. Am I sleeping?"

"You're wide awake," Kaitlin confirms.

I'm not making this up. Of all the girls Colton could've chosen, he picked me. He wants to be with me.

_______________________________________

The bell rings to signal the end of class, and everyone immediately jumps out of their seats to flock toward the door. I'm not in such a rush, and neither is the boy I glance over at. Kaitlin gives me a nudge, which is her way of telling me to go over to him, and I comply. I'm not sure whether to look at him or elsewhere while I walk up, so my eyes flicker between him and the ground. He smiles at me from where he sits on the top of his desk, waiting for me to get there.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," I respond, sounding more wonderstruck than I intended. "I didn't realize you knew I existed," I comment.

"A girl as beautiful as you—" he replies "—I know you exist."

The compliment gives me a weird sensation of butterflies, but it's like their winding around upside down when they should be upright. It makes me nervous, because I don't know how to decipher the feeling.

Then he adds one more thing. "Meet me there at 7:00 on Sunday."

"I'll be there," I reply.

He shows off another crooked smile before standing up off the desk and walking out of the room, slowly as though life waits for him.

With him gone, my excitement levels are finally able to be released, and I hurry out of the classroom to find someone to unload it all on. I spot Andi at the end of the hallway and dart over to her.

"What's going on?" she asks as I approach her.

I grab her shoulders and smile, saying, "A boy just asked me out!"

"Oh my gosh! Who?" she says, matching my energy level.

"Colton!" I squeal.

Her smile changes into a look of confusion. "Really? Him?"

I let her go and take a step back, thrown off by her response. Does she not believe he would like me?

"Yeah," I say. "Why do you seem so put off by that?"

"I just didn't really think he was your type," she answers. "I always thought you end up with someone else."

"Someone else?"

"In all honesty, I thought you and Marty would be a thing for sure."

"Me and Marty?" I respond in surprise. "We're friends. Not more than that."

"Whatever you say," Andi says with a shrug. "I think you'd be good together."

"Andi—"

"You and Colton would be good too, though," Andi says, adding back her smile to try to sound more genuine. "I hope it goes well."

"Thanks," I respond flatly.

She glances over her shoulder quickly before saying, "I've got math, but I'll see you at lunch."

She heads off toward her next class, and I turn to go to my own, feeling less sure of my decision now. Andi, my best friend, obviously doesn't support me going out with this guy, but I want to, so her opinion shouldn't matter. Plus, Andi's wrong about a lot of things. She's not some all-knowing being . . . But she does know me.

______________________________________

**TJ's POV**  
  
  


"TJ!"

I look back to see Cyrus running up to walk alongside me. We travel together down the sidewalk, bumping lightly into each other as we move, teasing my heart with every touch. I've been closer to him than this. I've held his hand, and I want to do it again, but I'm too scared to try.

"What are you doing now?" Cyrus asks.

"I don't know," I reply. "Any chance I can hang out with you? I'm not really in the mood to see my mom right now. I haven't spoken to her since yesterday. I avoided her at breakfast."

Cyrus' smile fades into sympathy as he recalls what I told him last night. I don't like being someone he feels bad for, but I don't want to talk to anyone else about this.

"You'll have to talk to her eventually," Cyrus reminds me.

"I know, but I'm too mad at her right now," I reason. "I'm worried I'll say something I'll regret. How likely is it that you'd let me come stay at your place a couple days early?"

"As much as I wouldn't mind that at all," he starts, "I think you should talk to your mom."

"Why should I? She didn't talk to me for 13 years."

Cyrus stops walking and turns to me, saying, "TJ, you lost your dad. That wasn't your choice, but this is. Don't lose your mom too."

His eyes could melt a glacier with their warmth. Just hearing his voice softens me like butter, so I don't stand a chance against his eyes.

"I hate that you're right," I say with a sigh.

Cyrus smiles, proud of himself. "Text me and tell me how it goes."

"I will," I respond.

He steps on ahead of me and crosses the street at the corner. I watch for another moment as he gets farther away, and I wonder if he even remembers how close he was to me yesterday. Maybe it was all in my head and I just dreamt it. I wish I could ask him. I want to know what's going on between us and if he feels for me even a sliver of what I do for him, but asking him would wreck things between us if he doesn't feel the same way. I'm not willing to risk what we have to try to get more—but I really want more.

________________________________________

I open the door feeling nervous because I know my mother is inside. The fear expands when I notice the lack of piano playing coming from downstairs which means that she's not with a student and she's probably going to try to talk to me. I am planning to talk to her, but I thought I'd have more time to think about what I'm going to say.

Her voice comes from the kitchen, saying, "TJ?"

I close the door behind me and kick off my shoes before starting up the stairs to go to my room. Halfway up, the guilt stops me. This is probably why she didn't tell me the truth sooner; she probably knew I'd never want to talk to her again. So instead of continuing to ignore her, I step back down the staircase and into the bright room where my mother sits at the table. She looks up from her magazine in surprise when I enter.

"Hi," I say.

"Hi," she responds, a small smile glowing faintly. "How was your day?"

"Okay," I answer, taking a seat across from her at the table. "Cyrus said I could stay at his house while you're gone."

She opens her mouth but stays quiet for a moment, leading me to believe she's trying to phrase something.

"Actually," she speaks up, "I made arrangements for you already."

"Well, can you cancel them?"

I told her I was going to stay with Cyrus, and I really want to. Did she really have to go and plan for me to stay somewhere without asking me?

"I could," she says, "but I think you should at least consider what I arranged, because I think it'd be good for you." She folds her magazine shut and slides it away from her on the table. "Do you remember how I said that your father had a baby girl when I had you?"

"Yeah . . ." I respond, trying to figure out where this is going.

"Well, last night I wasn't out with one of my regular friends," my mom explains. "I was out with that girl's mother."

"You know her?" I say in shock.

"I didn't know her, but I crossed paths with her recently and recognized her, and we both wanted to talk and just settle the tension there still was. Anyway, I mentioned that I was leaving you here for a while, and we ended up agreeing that it would be good for you to get to know your sister. She said that if you needed somewhere to stay, you could stay with them."

Right away I feel my blood start to boil. First she lied to me about my dad, and now she's forcing me to meet a sister I never wanted to know. I have no intention to make her lie easier for her to swallow by submitting to it and embracing this shit by getting to know some stupid half-sister.

"I know this is sudden," my mom says, "and you don't have to agree to it if you don't want to." She looks at me with eyes like a puppy dog. "But I think you should."

I consider it for a minute. I want to be with Cyrus and spend five days with him, but that also might be hard, because how could I ask him about what's going on between us if I'm staying with him? If it doesn't work out, it'd be insanely awkward for the entire rest of the time. I could wait until the last day, but I'm not sure I can hold off for that long.

I could get to know my sister, but why would she ever want to know me, the bastard son of her cheating dad. Those aren't exactly the best circumstances to become family under. Did her mom ask her if she was okay with me staying at her house?

I look up again at my mother's face. It's obvious that she's really trying to make things right, and it's a lot easier to let her do that than to hold a grudge.

"Alright, fine," I finally agree. "What's my half-sister's name."

My mom hesitates a second before saying the last name I ever expected to come out of her mouth: "Buffy Driscoll."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your theories have been confirmed. Look at me posting more frequently again. This probably won't hold steady, though, because my next day off isn't until next Friday, but I'll do my best to write another chapter before then. I love ya'll! Bye!


	8. Chapter 8

**TJ's POV**   
  
  


**TJ:** I'm there.

 **TJ:** It's way bigger than my house.

 **Cyrus:** Are you nervous?

 **TJ:** Yeah

 **Cyrus:** :(

 **Cyrus:** Let me know how it goes when you meet them.

 **TJ:** I'll tell you all about it. Maybe tonight?

 **Cyrus:** Tonight works. Meet me at the park at 7:00?

 **TJ:** You got it, Underdog.

 **Cyrus:** :)

 **Cyrus:** It'll be fine.

 **TJ:** Thanks. I hope so.

"TJ, put your phone away," My mom tells me as she steps up the pathway past me.

I sigh and shove my phone into my pocket before picking up my suitcase and carrying it up the steps onto the porch. Through the giant window, I can see an open kitchen and living room. I focus in on the photos on the walls of the family's only child as she ages through each school picture.

I stop my peeking when I see a woman appear from the stairwell. Soon after, the door flings open, and she stands there smiling.

"TJ," the lady says, "I'm Pat."

"Hi," I mutter, not sure what else to add.

I wonder if she's heard all about me—specifically about how I used to treat Buffy—from her daughter. That smile could be a pointless disguise to hide her actual resentment toward me. I wouldn't be surprised. I don't deserve to be treated nicely by her.

My mom puts her hand on my shoulder as I drop my suitcase on the floor with a clink, and I look up at her.

"Remember to listen to what she says and help out around the house," Mom reminds me.

"Yeah, I got it," I respond.

"Okay," she says, giving my shoulder one last squeeze. Then she looks back up to Buffy's mom. "I'll let you take it from here then, Pat."

"Don't worry, Georgia. TJ will be well taken care of."

She gives me a smile, and I smile back, contradicting my current feelings right now.

And with just the shutting of a door, I'm left alone with a stranger whose daughter hates me, without anyone I know. Suddenly, I realize I've never been more thankful for my phone in my pocket, because it means Cyrus is only one text away. I consider taking it out, but Pat motions for me to follow her, and I decide it'd be rude to ignore her.

"Are you hungry?" she asks as she walks me toward the big, open kitchen.

"I'm good," I reply.

I stop at the counter to lean my elbows on it, my eyes busy scanning the room at the design. Flower pots—with real flowers—sit on the edge of every countertop there is, and family photos are placed scarcely but meaningfully on otherwise bare spots of the walls.

"Okay," she responds. "I'm making burgers for supper later. I don't cook often, but I didn't want your first supper here to be take-out."

I lean forward to speak, but I don't want to kill her bright mood, so I retreat back. Pat has already noticed, though, and she questions me.

"Is that okay?"

"Oh, yeah," I say. "It's just that I'm actually a vegetarian."

She sighs. "Of course. I'm sorry. I should've asked."

"No, it's fine," I say. "I'll just skip dinner."

"You can't do that," she mutters, the disappointment apparent in her voice.

All of a sudden, the clunk of footsteps sounds from the stairs, and I spin around to see Buffy entering the room, bringing along a giant cloud of discomfort with her.

"You're here already," she notes.

"Buffy," Pat speaks up, "I'm going to the store to buy veggie burgers—"

"Veggie burgers?" Buffy cuts in, confused.

"Yes. TJ's a vegetarian," Pat explains. "Can you show TJ his room while I'm out?"

"Yeah," Buffy mutters, her tone flat. "No problem."

Pat gives her daughter a kiss on the head before making her way toward the back door. Buffy waits for the sound of it shutting before turning to me.

"You're a vegetarian?" she asks.

I nod. "Yeah."

"I didn't expect that," she comments.

"Yeah, well, whatever," I respond.

She thinks I'm just everything awful incarnated as a person, so naturally she wouldn't believe that I care about the animals or the environment or anything like that. If she were anyone else, I'd start on a rant about why I choose to eat this way, but I don't have the energy to do that with her.

"I'll show you your room," Buffy then says, changing the subject.

She waves for me to follow her, and I do so after making a quick stop to grab my suitcase first. She walks several steps above me, not glancing back at all to notice me swaying with the weight of my bag as I ascend. She shows me to the top floor where an open door reveals a room like a blank canvas, holding nothing but a bed, a nightstand, a chest of drawers, and a desk, all plain wood.

"That's yours," Buffy says, not looking at me but instead at her phone which she's pulled out to keep her entertained, as though having her enemy as her half-brother isn't interesting enough.

I step through the doorway and set my suitcase down on the burgundy carpet then glance back at the room across the hall from mine and its purple walls covered in medals and ribbons for all types of sports.

"Is that your room?" I ask.

Buffy immediately whips around, grabs the doorknob, and slams it closed.

"Yes," she snaps, "so stay out of there."

I raise my eyebrows and nod, honestly pretty tired of being around her. I turn back around and go into the room where I'll be staying and pull the door shut behind me. Surrounded by nothing familiar, I reach for something I know I'll recognize and use it to text the person I've been waiting to talk to this whole time. On the screen, I see a text from him already waiting for me.

 **Cyrus:** Have you met them yet? Sorry, I'm impatient.

 **TJ:** Yeah. My half-sister isn't a huge fan of me. I'll tell you more when I see you. Any chance we can meet up now? I don't think my half-sister really wants me here.

 **Cyrus:** Sure thing! I'll be there soon.

I shove my phone back into my pocket and head out of my room and down the stairs. Buffy's eyes swerve from the television to me as I pass the living room.

"Where are you going?" she questions.

"Why do you care?" I huff.

"My mom will be mad if you're not back for dinner."

"I'll be back for dinner," I snap.

Then I slip on my shoes and fling the front door open, shutting it tight against the wind behind me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Sorry this took so long. it's been busy with uni starting up again and work and stuff. I had more to write for this chapter, but then I decided to move it to the next one instead. Thanks for reading! I love you all, and good night!


	9. Chapter 9

**TJ's POV**

From two blocks away, I can see Cyrus waiting on a swing, gently pushing himself back and forth. He doesn't notice me, but I notice him, and it motivates me to walk twice as fast to close the gap between me and the empty swing next to Cyrus. The crunching of dry leaves under my feet alerts Cyrus of my arrival, and he looks over to see me and smiles as I sit down beside him.

"We've never met at this park before," Cyrus comments.

"Yeah," I respond. "It's the closest one to where my half-sister lives."

"It's also close to Buffy's house," Cyrus adds. "We used to come here a lot when we were younger."

I laugh uncomfortably, deciding I should stop putting off telling him the truth. It's never going to change, so I might as well just comes to terms with it.

"Yeah, there's a reason for that," I say. 

"What?" Cyrus asks, confused.

"Buffy is my half-sister," I disclose.

Cyrus' jaw drops automatically, and probably without him even noticing, as he stares at me, trying to work through what I just said. A few long seconds go by before he speaks again, starting in a stutter.

"So you're—she's—how?"

I begin explaining through everything my mother told me about the situation, falling into a ramble. My words become so constant that all Cyrus can do is listen, unable to sneak any of his own thoughts in until I finally finish and take a deep breath to regain the air I've just drained with my explanation. 

"That explains why she's been so on edge recently," Cyrus says. "I knew she wasn't telling us something. And it makes sense now why she was avoiding me whenever I was with you."

"Doesn't she always do that?" I question.

"Yeah, but not to the same degree."

I don't know how true that is. Buffy always wants to leave whenever I show up, but I also never talk to her, so I guess I don't know exactly how poorly she views me. Cyrus is her best friend, so he'd know her better. Sometimes I find it astounding how he could be friends with me while his best friend calls me her enemy. That seems to break some kind of best friend rule, but Cyrus doesn't care, and I don't understand it. 

"I'm surprised you can still want to be friends with me, knowing how much she hates me," I say.

Cyrus looks at me with eyes that seem to glow their own sunset light. 

"I think it surprises me sometimes too," he responds, letting a soft smile cross his face. "But it also surprises me that someone like you would even consider being friends with someone like me."

"Someone like me?"

"Yeah," he says. "Confident, cool, attractive."

I smile a little, feeling myself blush at the compliment. "Underdog, I'm only confident around you. Usually, I'm much more of a mess."

"Well, there's something we have in common," Cyrus says with a chuckle. 

I feel my face burn even hotter, and I turn my head away to try to hide the redness from the boy who caused it. Instead, I catch sight of a large fountain beyond the playground. It sprays up then drops down onto a concrete ground where I imagine people must play in the summer, letting themselves be pelted by the water. 

"I've never seen a fountain like that before," I comment. 

"I used to come here to play in it with Buffy and Andi a lot when I was younger," Cyrus says. 

I glance over, realizing he's no longer sitting on his swing, but instead standing next to mine. His eyes go wide when I grin, him picking up on my idea. 

"I'm not dressed for it," he says. 

I get up off the swing, then reply, "Me neither."

He gives me a little pout as I swing my arm over his shoulder and start guiding him toward the fountain. His pout is quickly replaced by a small smile as we walk, around which point I also realize I've had my arm around him for too long, and I let it fall. Now separated, Cyrus trails just barely behind me as we cross the grass. 

I'm taken completely off guard when I feel the boy's hand reach for mine, linking us back together. It feels like a million butterflies were just transferred into me through the new connection, and they brought drumsticks with them to beat my heart at the speed of a runaway train. I look back at him, but his eyes are elsewhere, scanning the houses in the distance. But after long enough, they eventually find their way to mine, and he smiles, sending scarlet through my cheeks, the same shade that wraps his. 

I've forgotten what I even came here to do by the time I get to the edge of the concrete circle that encompasses the fountain, but Cyrus' hesitation reminds me of my purpose as he lets go of my hand and stops at the edge of the grass. 

"I'll just wait here," he says. 

"Come on," I say. 

Then I start jogging into the wall of raining water. The icy cold shocks me instantly, but I stand under the downpour, my arms out. I have to work hard to keep myself from shivering. It's far too cool outside to be playing in water, but here I am, trying to convince Cyrus to join me. 

"It's great!" I shout.

"Are you not freezing?" Cyrus replies. 

"Not at all," I lie. 

I'm pleased when my acting skills pay off. Cyrus smiles and walks in toward where I am. Once in front of the edge of the rain, he holds a hand out to test it first, then immediately pulls away. 

"You lied! That feels like ice!" he says over the sound of the beating water.

I roll my eyes at his hesitation and reach out to take both his hands then pull him into the water. He submits like sand, easily letting me take control without a fight. He scrunches his face as a defence against the cold, but it doesn't do anything. 

Laughing, I step back, closer to the fountain base, into a cave of dryness, enclosed by a wall and roof of water. Cyrus doesn't let me go so easily though, for he runs up to grab my hands again, yanking me back into the spray. 

"This was your idea," he says, chuckling. "I'm not going to get drenched alone."

I agree to his logic and step back out of my dry haven, but as soon as I do, Cyrus giggles and swaps places with me, ducking out from the water. 

"What do you think you're doing?" I joke.

"I'd rather not be dripping while I walk home," Cyrus replies.

I shake my head and snatch his hand again to pull him back in. 

He resists a little, but I don't let him go, and he ends up swinging out into the water anyway. He laughs as soon as the downpour falls onto him again, and I can't help but join in. 

Then, influenced by some force in my brain, I pull him in toward me. His laughing fades as he stumbles up to me and adjusts his hands to weave his fingers through mine. 

"See," I say, trying not to let my heart break through my ribs. "It's not that cold."

He smiles and responds, "No, it isn't."

His eyes hold mine for a little longer, and I think for a moment that I might kiss him, but the twist of nervousness in my chest prevents me from doing anything, and I step back, letting him go. 

Cyrus frowns and asks a question that I'm not sure how to answer. "TJ, what were you about to do?"

I look over at him, no response prepared. 

"I—I'm not sure," I say. 

He steps back up to me, intertwining our hands again. 

"Can I make a suggestion?" he asks. 

Then he brings his lips in to kiss me. Neither of us are focused on the freezing fountain water dripping down our clothes anymore. The only thing I'm aware of is his body against mine. It feels long overdue, like a sunrise at noon, but all I care about it that the light is here and I don't need a flashlight to see anymore, because he more than fulfills that role. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School is busy right now, which is why it's taking me so long to write these chapters, but I'm hoping it will settle down soon. Thank you for reading. I love and appreciate you all! Also, I've had my idea for my next books for a long time now, so, to let you all know, I have an Ambi fic and another Tyrus fic in the works next. Which I post first will be based on which I finish he outline for first. I'm going to try to update more regularly from now on, though. Love you! Bye!


	10. Chapter 10

**Buffy's POV**   
  
  


The glass clinks as my mother places it down on the table.

"What time did he say he'd be home?"

"He didn't," I reply. "He just said he'd be back for dinner."

"Well," Mom responds, "he has about five more minutes or we're eating without—"

As if on cue, the door squeaks open, and both my mom and I turn our heads to the boy standing in soaking wet clothing, presenting what just may be the dopiest grin I've ever seen TJ wear.

"Am I late?" TJ asks.

"You're just barely on time," my mom answers, "but why are you so wet? It's not raining, is it?"

"I was at the park with my—" he hesitates "—friend. And we went in the fountain."

"Okay, well, go get changed into some dry clothes, then come back down. and supper will be ready," my mom orders.

TJ does as asked, leaving damp footprints on the hardwood floor from the door to the stairs. As soon as I hear him open and close his bedroom door, My mother continues setting the table, going toward the cutlery drawer.

"This isn't going to work," I mutter. "He's a conceited jerk who only cares about himself."

"Well, make it work," my mom snaps, whipping around to face me.

I freeze, taken aback by her outburst. It seems she's gotten tired of my complaining.

She sets the forks on the counter behind her and takes a breath.

"Buffy, I'm trying to make this as easy as possible, and I would really appreciate it if you'd put even an ounce of effort into being nice," she says.

"Mom, it's TJ—"

"It's your brother—"

"Half-brother," I correct.

She remains quiet for a moment as she turns back around to grab the forks and bring them over to the table.

"Nonetheless, he's family," she insists. "I need you to try to be nice. Maybe once you get to know him, he won't be so bad."

I don't argue that. I think she's about tired of me fighting her on this, and I don't know what more I could say to make her change her mind. She's stuck on this like a stone in cement.

"How am I supposed to get to know him?"

"Talk to him," she says. "Ask him questions. Express interest in what he has to say."

I let out an agonized sigh, to which my mom responds sarcastically, "That's the spirit."

A clunking of feet turns my attention to TJ, now arrived in dry clothes and socks that don't mark the floor. He makes his way over to the table, and I realize that even the way he walks annoys me. I try to shove all my irritation to the back of my brain and walk over to the island to where my mother has laid out trays of burger toppings for us. I don't look at TJ, sure that I'll end up scowling if I do.

"Thanks again for the dinner," TJ says. His politeness almost makes me want to gag. I don't believe one bit of it, but my mom chews it up and swallows it whole.

"You're very welcome," she replies.

Once we've all served ourselves, we sit down together at the table, my mom and I across from TJ in a way that makes it feel like he's about to be interviewed.

"So what's your friend's name?" my mom asks. "The one you were just with?"

"Uh, Cyrus," TJ answers.

I keep my head down at my food, not wanting my mom to notice my annoyance. I knew TJ and Cyrus were friends, but I didn't think Cyrus would be the person TJ calls when he wants to get away. I didn't realize they were that close. Cyrus never told me they were that close.

"Oh, Buffy's friend?" my mom says in surprise.

TJ nods.

"Yes, he's a nice boy," Mom responds.

"Yeah," TJ agrees.

He looks down at his plate, a goofy smile on his face. _Why is he grinning like that? Probably because he knows that him hanging out with my friend bugs me._

"What about school?" my mom moves on. "Do you have a favorite subject?"

"I like English," TJ replies.

"Oh, that's interesting. Buffy likes that too. Don't you dear?"

I snap my head up, flatly saying, "Oh. Yeah."

TJ directs his eyes from me to my mom soon after recognizing that I'm not adding anything more.

"I'm reading The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas."

"I've never read it," Mom says. "What's it about?"

TJ seems to gain energy from the question, beginning to answer with a genuine interest I've never seen him have before. "It's about this boy during the second world war who makes friends with a boy in a concentration camp."

He goes on explaining more of the story, but I zone out, thinking more about how I'm going to try to be nice to him. I don't want this to be hard for my mom, but I just don't know how I can possibly get along with someone like TJ. Maybe I should do what I think she said to me when I was younger but I didn't take the advice at the time: be the bigger person.

I lift up my head and force myself to listen to him. My sudden paying of attention clearly throws him off, because he flicks his eyes to me and stutters as he finishes explaining every spoiler of the book.

"Well, I guess I don't have to add it to my reading list," my mom says with a chuckle. "I feel like I just read the whole book."

"Sorry," TJ responds with a laugh. "I should've left out the spoilers."

"I probably wouldn't have gotten around to reading it anyway," Mom admits.

"I'm reading The Outsiders in school," I say.

"I've read that book," TJ responds.

The small smile on his face makes me feel weird. I don't know why, but he looks genuinely happy about me talking to him.

"It's so good. I know too many quotes from it," TJ says.

I don't know what else to say, so I just mutter, "I see. I didn't know you liked reading that much."

"Yeah, I'm a bit of a book nerd," TJ says with a shrug.

Under my breath and sparked by impulse, I end up mumbling, "Wish you had put your energy into that instead of keeping me off the basketball court."

TJ's smile drops, and he sets his burger down before clearing his throat.

"Uh, I'm going to finish this in my room if that's okay," TJ checks with my mom.

Usually she would say no, but this time she nods, and TJ gets up and carries his plate away to the stairs. When he's gone, I sense my mom's glare coming before she gives it to me.

"Why would you do that?" she hisses. "You couldn't just be nice for one meal."

I don't look at her, because I don't want to be confronted with what I already know. I know I'm stubborn and always have to be right and can't let anything go. I don't know why it's so hard for me. Everything he does just irks me to my core, and I can hardly listen to him breathe without getting mad. I wish I had a little bit of whatever it is that makes Cyrus so quick to forgive people, whatever gives him to ability to see the good in them, because all I seem to be able to see is the bad.

"I'm sorry," I huff.

"Go and apologize to him," my mom orders.

"I will—" I mumble "—later."

"You will now."

I let out a groan as I push myself up out of my chair and storm out of the kitchen to go to my own room, not to apologize, just to get away from her. It's not my mom's fault, but I don't need her highlighting my mistakes right now, so I leave her alone with the first meal for three people she's cooked since I was three years old. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm writing quicker again. This didn't take a week. Also, GUYS THERE'S A GIRL. ALERT! THERE'S A GIRL! So yeah, that's new and complicated and I don't really know what's going to happen with that, but I'm equal parts excited and terrified. Um, I hope yall have a great life. I really appreciate yall reading this. Help me out if you're willing by leaving a comment about what super power you'd want if you had one. And have a good night!


	11. Chapter 11

**Buffy's POV**

The doors to our rooms are only a metre apart, but crossing the hall might as well be crossing the universe. There's no chance we'd ever find our ways to each other's sides. TJ's been in his room, his door sealed, and I've been in mine, my door open only a crack. I told my mom it's because I like the airflow, but, being inside, there isn't really much of an airflow. The truth is, I'm waiting for the door to open, for a knock or something so that I don't have to be the one to take the first step across the border. 

A rattle from the hall makes me think for a second that it's worked, but then I realize the doorknob shaking isn't mine. I get up from my desk where I've been working on my math homework, and I shuffle out into the hallway. I immediately notice that TJ's door is open, and he's not in it. 

Then, from the bathroom, I hear a voice mutter, "Shit."

I walk toward the open door. As I get closer, I see TJ in his pyjama pants and a grey T-shirt, standing with a ziplock bag containing a toothbrush and dental floss. He catches my eye in the mirror but looks back down, ignoring my presence, and I guess I deserve it.

"Everything okay?" I ask. 

"Yeah," TJ mumbles back. "I just . . . forgot my toothpaste."

"Here." I squeeze into the space between TJ and the cabinet on the right wall then swing the door open. I grab the tube of my own toothpaste and set it down on the counter. "Use mine," I say.

TJ looks at me as though trying to decipher a code before eventually accepting the offer. 

"Thanks," he says cautiously. 

He squeezes out a bit of the paste onto his toothbrush and starts scrubbing away at his teeth. While he does that, I figure he's not going anywhere, so I take the opportunity to say something I've been trying to get myself to say since dinner. 

"Hey, I've been a bit of a bitch to you," I admit. 

He spits out foam before wiping his mouth with a cloth and setting his toothbrush down on the counter. 

"Is Buffy Driscoll apologizing?" TJ says with a grin. 

"I'm not apologizing," I assure him. "I'm just acknowledging that I wasn't exactly nice to you."

"Close enough," he accepts. 

He turns around with a smile before stepping past me back down the hall toward his room. I follow him there, not quite finished with the conversation yet. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

He sits down on his bed, looking about ready to go to sleep, but I stay regardless.

"Depends on what you ask," he replies. 

"Why did you talk to Cyrus that day at the swings?" I question. "Was it because you wanted to make me mad?"

He laughs a little under his breath and shakes his head. "Buffy, that had nothing to do with you."

"Then why?" I wonder. "Because, personally, I don't usually try to becomes friends with my enemies' friends."

His smile is replaced by a look like he's contemplating something. 

"You wouldn't get it," he says. 

"Try me."

He glances up at me, eyes holding a look of frailness in them. Then he lets out a tiny but noticeable breath.

"Okay," he says. "Well, have you ever just felt . . ." he pauses like he's searching for a word ". . . like you wanted to know somebody, but you didn't know why?"

I remain silent, attempting to pinpoint the feeling he's trying to describe. Maybe I've felt that way before, but I can't think of a time like that. I'm usually pretty sure of how I feel most of the time. Before I can think of a specific time, he continues speaking.

"Well, I know why now," he says, "but I didn't before. I just kinda wanted to be around him. And then the more I got to know him, the more I wanted to be around him, and then I realized . . . why." 

He's clearly holding something back, but I have no idea what that could possibly be. What secrets could he possibly have about Cyrus? 

"Has he really not told you yet?" TJ asks, noticing my blank expression. 

"Told me what?"

Now I'm lost. Cyrus and him both have a secret? And Cyrus hasn't told me? Unless this is just some cruel way for TJ to get on my nerves. 

He seems to consider his words carefully as he links his hands together and rests his palms on the back of his neck.

"I, uh, like him."

It takes me a moment to get it, but when I finally do, my jaw drops. I can't believe I didn't figure this out on my own. Thinking back, it's so obvious. 

"You like him?" I echo back. "You like like him?"

TJ nods cautiously, likely trying to read if I'm pleased or disgusted with this new information. I wouldn't say I'm on either extreme of that spectrum, though. I'm more so just sucked into this teen drama that I've now become a part of. This is a classic story of unrequited love, but as sad as this is for TJ, I can't help but be curious.

"Wait, did you tell him how you feel?" I ask. 

"Uh, yeah, something like that," TJ responds. 

"So it's not that?" I question. 

"Not quite," he says, a grin forming on his face. 

I cross my arms, stepping up a bit more to show my investment in this topic, but he just sits smirking on the edge of his bed.

"If you won't tell me," I say, "then I'll ask Cyrus."

TJ shrugs and says, "Go for it."

I'm a little confused by his casualty about this, but I follow through regardless, heading back to my room to grab my phone to text my friend. When I check the device, there's already a message waiting for me.

 **Cyrus:** BUFFY, I DID SOMETHING!

I unlock my phone and type my response back, giving him the chance to tell me without knowing that I already know more than he thinks I do.

 **Buffy:** What did you do?

His message was sent a while ago, so I don't expect an instant response, but Cyrus replies only a millisecond after my text goes through, as though he had the message ready to send.

 **Cyrus:** I KISSED TJ

I immediately drop my phone back on the desk where it sat before and zoom back across the hallway. I enter TJ's room with my jaw on the floor, and TJ looks up from his phone in his lap and grins. 

"He kissed you?" I shout. 

TJ grins and responds, "Yes, but right now you should text Cyrus back, because he's currently texting me saying he's worried you're mad."

I quickly scurry back to grab my phone before boomeranging back into TJ's room. I yank the desk chair out to a spot where I can plop down on it and face TJ as I text Cyrus back. 

**Buffy:** That's great! I'm super happy for you.

I flick my eyes up at TJ's, who seems to also be texting the same boy as me at the moment, which would explain why it's taking Cyrus a moment to respond. 

**Cyrus:** I expected you to be more mad. Don't you hate TJ?

I did, but I'm starting to realize that there's a bit more to him than I thought there was. I guess my mom was actually right. But I'm not going to admit that to Cyrus.

 **Buffy** : If you like him, then I like him.

Suddenly, it crosses my mind that there's one huge thing that I haven't actually told Cyrus yet.

"Does he know," I ask TJ, "that you and I are related?"

"Yeah," TJ answers. "I told him today."

I feel like a bit of a bad friend for not having told him first, but I just wasn't in the right mindset to do that.

 **Buffy:** Also, I know he told you already, but TJ's my half-brother.

 **Cyrus:** Yeah, he mentioned it. 

**Buffy:** Are you upset that I didn't say anything earlier?

 **Cyrus** : No, I understand. That's pretty life-changing. It would be hard for you to come to terms with.

 **Buffy:** That's exactly it. Thanks for understanding. 

**Cyrus:** No worries :)

"He's such a good person," I say. "If you hurt him, I'll kill you."

"I figured that out," TJ responds with a chuckle. "Don't worry."

I smile, because, surprisingly enough, I believe him, even though he's never given me much reason to trust him with anything. 

"Now, I told you all about my love life," TJ starts. "What about yours? You and Marty?"

"No," I answer like slapping shut a window to stop whatever air was about to blow in. "We're not a thing. And how do you know Marty?"

TJ laughs at my reaction, saying, "We've had classes together. And why are you so defensive?"

"I just don't understand why everyone thinks we're a thing," I say. 

"Maybe it's because you obviously like each other."

"I don't like him," I argue, "not like that."

"But he likes you," TJ insists. 

"No, he doesn't," I reply. "I mean, he used to, but he's over me now."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do," I say. 

He can't like me. He's has a girlfriend, and they broke up, but it wasn't because of me. Still, TJ's smirk like he knows more than me makes me feel like he might be right, but he's not. There's no way Marty still likes me, and there's no way I like him. I like Colton, and we're going out tomorrow, and it's going to be great. Even if I did feel something for Marty, those feelings don't have a place right now. 

"I thought you were supposed to be the smarter of the two of us," TJ says. 

"He doesn't like me," I push. "Even if he did, it doesn't matter. I have a date tomorrow with someone else."

"Who could be better for you than Marty?"

"Colton," I answer with a smile. 

TJ is not nearly as excited as I am. He seems to have an 'are you kidding me?' look on his face.

"Colton?" he repeats. "That guy's a fuckboy."

I can't even argue with that, because I know he has a bad reputation, but I truly think this time is different. I think he actually likes me, which is why I'm going to argue with TJ anyway.

"No, he's not."

"Buffy, I've heard all the stories about how he has a new girl every week, and he treats them like objects. Things get around after a while."

"Sometimes rumours are wrong," I counter.

"Yeah, but sometimes they're right," TJ says. 

"Look, you can try to talk me out of this all you want, but I'm not going to listen," I state.

"Trust me, I'm aware," TJ accepts, laughing a little. 

He knows I'm not going to budge on my stance, which is something that usually takes people much longer to understand. Maybe it's some kind of sibling intuition—if that's even a thing. 

Then something catches his eye through the open door, and he stands up to walk across the hall, stopping at the open doorway to my room. He leans against the wooden frame, mesmerized by something inside the dark room. 

"I used to have these as a kid," TJ says. 

That's when I realize that he's focused on the hundreds of tiny glow-in-the-dark stars coating the walls and ceiling in an ominous, yellow glow. I step into the space, inviting him to do the same, and I close the door shut behind him to preserve the integrity of the stars' glow. TJ's chin stays up as he spins around to gaze at the surroundings. 

"I started with only a few," I say, "but I got more over time."

Tired of staring up, I lower down to the ground and lie on my back to easily see the ceiling clearly. TJ follows my lead, lying with his feet pointing the opposite direction of mine. 

"My dad—our dad—gave me a bunch of these when I was really little," I explain. "He told me to put up a new star every time I made a friend, because people are like stars."

"Yeah, I've seen a Tumblr post or two with that line before," TJ comments, which makes me laugh. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him tilt his head slightly in my direction, a smile on his face, then return to staring straight up.

"Do you still have extra stars?" TJ asks. 

I point toward a small wicker basket on my bookshelf. "There's a ton in there."

TJ pushes himself up of the ground and walks over to rummage through the glowing mass in the basket. 

"Holy shit, you have a lot," he mutters. 

I giggle at his shock. Once I settle down, I have a thought.

"Hey, would you put one more up for me?" I ask. 

TJ glances back at me and smiles. Then he does as asked and picks out one of the stars. He peels off the paper from the sticky dot on the back of the plastic and brings it over to a spot right above the light switch where he presses it onto the wall. 

He keeps his eyes on it as he finds his spot on the carpet again, lying back down beside me. I would never say it out loud, but he's not as awful as I thought. If somebody had be my half-brother, there are plenty of worse people it could've been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I hope that gave you feels. I also have a huge word count. Also, I sat down in the room I usually work in at my university to write this. While writing, I noted that the people in the room with me were pretty loud, but they looked like fun people and they all knew each other, which was cool. Then I stopped writing when these two guys came up and started talking to me. It turns out that the nerd club was meeting in that room, and I said I wasn't in the club, and then the guys taught me how to game, and I actually won a few times. They added me to their discord, and now I'm in nerd club. So that's rad, cause they're super cool. Anyway, have a dandy night, and I love you all :)


	12. Chapter 12

**TJ's POV**

I wake up feeling confused. I'm positive I just had the strangest dream. It couldn't have been real. There's no way Buffy's my half-sister. But then was everything with Cyrus just a dream too? Did he never kiss me in the drizzle a fountain? That seems more likely than the too-good-to-be-true idea that it could've actually happened. 

Right when I've settled with the belief that everything was a dream, I open my eyes and I realize I really am in Buffy's house, and she really is my half-sister, and Cyrus really did kiss me. I roll out of bed and plant my feet on the carpet. It's much fluffier than the carpet at my house, which suggests that it must be much newer than mine. 

I slump down the hall to the washroom where I steal Buffy's toothpaste again to brush my teeth. Once finished in there, I trudge down the stairs like a brick thudding down each step. Sunlight filtering through the curtains hits my feet, and I wonder how different mornings here will be from mornings at my house. The second I turn into the kitchen and smell pancakes cooking, I realize that mornings will be very different. 

"Good morning," Pat says. "Did you sleep okay?"

I nod and go over to the island to stack three blueberry pancakes onto a plate. I sit down at the table, and Buffy is already there, finishing her last few bites of breakfast. 

"You wake up late," Buffy comments, a smirk paired along. 

"You wake up early," I counter.

"It's eleven o'clock," Buffy informs me. 

"It's Sunday," I reason. 

Buffy chuckles to herself and shakes her head. Pat seems both pleased and confused by this new banter we have going on between us. She stares at us from the island, distracted enough to nearly let one of the pancakes on the pan burn, but she notices the simmering smell in time to flip it. 

"No fighting?" Pat questions. "This is new."

Buffy shoots her mom a sharp look, responding, "I'm just doing what you said: being the bigger person."

"Whatever works," Pat says with a shrug. "Do either of you have any plans for today?"

"I do in the evening," Buffy replies. "I'm meeting up with a . . . friend."

I know who she's referring to, but I pretend not to be affected by it. I thought Buffy was smarter than to get caught up in Colton's charm, but I guess, when it comes down to it, she is ultimately just another girl, and few of them can seem to see past his pretty face and alluring smile. 

"That's nice," Pat says. "What about you, TJ?"

"Oh, I'm doing something in the afternoon. I'm going out with . . ." I debate what to call him, but I figure, since nothing's been made official yet, I should stick to the safe word: "friend." 

Buffy's eyes flick up to me, suddenly far more interested, but I just try to continue eating my pancakes. 

"Cyrus?" Buffy asks quietly.

I nod. "We're going to see a movie."

"In the middle of the day?" Buffy questions, but then she understands. "Oh, right, Cyrus."

"He says theatres are too crowded at night," I say. 

"I know," Buffy responds with a laugh. "He refuses to ever go to any movie that starts after 4:00 pm."

"I don't mind," I say. 

"What movie are you seeing?" 

"The Lion King. It was Cyrus' pick," I say. 

"Of course it was," Buffy replies. "Cyrus loves the animated version of that movie."

"Yeah," I say. 

I shove another forkful of food into my mouth, and Buffy finishes sipping the last of her orange juice. My mind is now stuck on my upcoming date with Cyrus, and I start to worry about several things. _Should I pay? Should I kiss him again? What should I wear?_ As Buffy starts to stand up, I realize she may know more about the answer to the last question than I do, and I stop her mid-movement. 

"Buffy, what am I supposed to wear?"

A smile creeps onto her face, and she quickly slaps her dishes down on the counter by her mother before returning with the answer, "You came to the right person."

______________________________________

"You don't want to look too formal," Buffy says. "You're going to the movies, not an upscale restaurant."

She stands as though teaching a class while I, her only student, sit on my bed, listening carefully. She has no more experience with dating than I do, but she seems to be way more confident about this subject than I am, so I trust her judgement. 

"Pick something casual but nice," Buffy says. 

"I only really brought jeans, a few T-shirts, and couple hoodies with me here," I respond. 

"Do any of those shirts have stains on them?" Buffy asks. 

"No. At least I don't think so."

"Then whatever you choose will be fine."

Suddenly, a guitar riff sounds, and Buffy pulls her phone out from her pocket. 

"I'll be in my room," she tells me. "Show me what outfit you pick."

She then exits through the door and travels across the hall into her own room, closing the door only slightly before ending the ringtone. 

I open up my suitcase and sift through the limited clothing articles I have. With only about four possible options to consider, I easily settle on a pair of dark jeans and a white polo shirt. After changing into the ensemble, I start toward Buffy's room to show her my decision. 

Before I enter, I hear the muffled sound of Andi's voice coming through Buffy's phone, and I smile when I hear what she's talking about.

"Cyrus keeps texting me," Andi says. "He's worried about what to wear on his date with TJ and what he's supposed to do."

It's comforting to know that Cyrus is just as nervous as me, but as much as I want to continue eavesdropping to see what else I can learn, it feels wrong, so I lightly knock on the door before opening it up, pretending I didn't hear anything that was just said. 

I see Andi's eyes go wide on the screen as Buffy turns back to see me. 

"TJ?" Andi says, stunned. "What are you doing in Buffy's house?"

"About that," Buffy starts, sounding unsure of how best to say it, "TJ is actually my half-brother."

"What?" Andi reacts. "How?"

"Long story short, my dad was fucking his mom," Buffy says bluntly. 

It sounds so harsh, and I can hear the remains of her anger sizzling beneath her words, but it's true, so I guess there's no point in sugar coating it. Our dad was just a lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch. My mom wouldn't want me to think that, but fact is fact.

"Oh," Andi says. 

"Yeah," Buffy mumbles. 

"Does Jonah know?" Andi asks. 

Buffy shakes her head. "I'm kind of just telling people as they talk to me. And the last time I saw Jonah, I wasn't really in a great mood."

"I remember," Andi says. "I'm impressed that you and TJ haven't killed each other yet."

"If I end up late for my date with Cyrus, that time just might come," I cut in. "Buffy, I need your opinion."

Buffy sighs and turns back around to give my outfit a once-over.

"You look good," Buffy declares after a second of thinking. 

"TJ," Andi's voices projects, though Buffy's phone screen is facing away from me now, "you could wear a duck costume and Cyrus would still like you. You'll be fine."

"Thanks, Andi," I reply. Then I look to Buffy once more. "You sure this is good?"

"It's good," she assures me. "Now go before you're late, and good luck on your date."

"Same goes for you," I reply.

She smiles as though I meant that as something other than a warning, but really I want her to be careful. Colton has a history of treating girls like shit, and Buffy, a girl who's never before been played by a fuckboy, is certainly no exception. Her naiveness may even make her an easier target to hit and possibly shatter. And I'd rather not step on her broken glass on the floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to have more in it, but I reached a certain word count, so I decided to stop. The next 5(?) chapters are going to be fun, so buckle up, kids. I just power-wrote an essay, so I'm feeling accomplished. Climate strike on Friday. If you're in Calgary, it's at noon till two at City Hall. Other places, I don't know. I love y'all. Have a dandy day!


	13. Chapter 13

**TJ's POV**

I spot Cyrus standing by a sign for a horror film coming to theatres soon. The sight of the creepy clown is so ironic next to this kind-hearted boy who smiles when he sees me approach. He's definitely dressed up slightly nicer than I am—in an rusty orange button-up shirt and dark jeans—but that's also just how Cyrus dresses all the time. 

When I get up to him, I don't know what to say. For some reason, it feels different being around him now. Maybe that's because I know he likes me back—and the thought of that makes me smile wide to the point where I wonder if he thinks I'm laughing at him. 

"Hi," he says. 

For a moment, I can't find my voice, for I'm stuck just thinking about how cute he is and how this must still be a dream. 

"TJ?"

I finally snap myself out of my trance, and my face starts burning red from embarrassment. 

"Hi," I say. "Uh, you look good. Is that a new shirt?"

"Yes," Cyrus replies. "You helped me pick it out. Remember?"

The memory comes back, and I wonder how it slipped away. We went to the mall last week and I pointed out that shirt, telling him I thought he should wear more orange. 

I laugh off my error, saying, "Right. Yeah, I remember."

Cyrus steps a little bit closer to me, his eyes looking at me gently as he says, "Are you nervous?"

"Maybe a bit," I admit. "Did you get the tickets yet?" 

Cyrus shakes his head. 

"Good," I say. "I'll pay."

"It's okay. I can."

"No, I've got it," I insist. 

Cyrus nods, finally accepting the gesture. Suddenly, I'm worried I pushed it too much.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I've never done this before—dating."

A smile spreads across Cyrus' face, and he reaches out his hand, weaving his fingers through mine. His touch settles my nerves a substantial amount, but only makes my pulse beat faster. 

"You're doing fine," Cyrus tells me. 

I let myself relax and take a breath.

"Okay," I say as I start walking along with Cyrus toward the box office. "Then I'll stop stressing and just have fun."

"You are much cuter when you're not stressed," Cyrus comments. 

We're caught in a loose stream of people making their ways toward the box office line-up, but that doesn't stop me from splitting the stream into two by halting in the middle of it, pulling Cyrus up to me, and kissing him right here. I guess Buffy was right when she said I'd feel the moment, but, in all honesty, I always feel the desire to be close to him; it's never been just a moment. 

When our lips separate, I'm still holding his hands, and Cyrus smiles at me, his cheeks pink.

"I always thought you'd be against PDA," Cyrus says. 

"I am," I reply, "unless it's us."

We both laugh at that. I've always hated seeing other people being affectionate in public, but now I get why people do it. It's the same reason people enter talent shows: to let everyone know that they have something special. 

Unfortunately, I didn't spend much time yet, if any, considering the costs of disclosing this part of my life. If I had just taken a second to think or look around at who might be watching me, I would've noticed the boys from our school standing by the popcorn line. I recognize them. They're part of the group which Colton is part of, and the way they're looking at me now is a perfect example of why I don't support Buffy's choice to go out with that guy tonight—and why I'm not friends with them anymore.

"When did TJ turn gay?" asks Jason in a loud voice, loud enough to gain stares from the surrounding people.

Nobody says anything. They just glance at the situation then silently decide to ignore it. I can't blame them. I'd probably do the same thing if I were in their positions. 

Cyrus immediately lets go of my hands, taking a step back. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

I shake my head and close the space again, reconnecting our grips. Cyrus smiles faintly, but the action only invites the other boys to continue their teasing. 

"Glad we got away from that creep," says Nixon. 

Though I hear them speak, I don't look at them. Cyrus' eyes have me locked into his focused stare. He knows I want to get angry, but he's not going to let me. 

"Let's go get popcorn first," Cyrus suggests. 

I nod and let him lead me away across the theatre. I feel the weight of the air around us release some of its pressure as the situation that just occurred becomes detached from Cyrus and I right now. We get up to the back of one of the long lines at the concession stand.

"Are you okay?" Cyrus checks.

"I'm fine," I say. "They're just a bunch of assholes. I know that. It's why I'm not friends with them anymore."

Cyrus seems surprised. "You were friends?"

"Yeah," I confess. "I broke off from them last year. I don't want toxic people around."

Suddenly, a woman with curly blonde hair chimes in, stepping up to Cyrus and I, saying, "I saw what happened, and I just wanted to let you know that you have nothing to be ashamed of. You two are both very brave."

It takes me some time to process the words, but Cyrus responds right away.

"Thank you," he says. 

The woman walks away, meeting back up with who I assume must be her family. 

"I've never been called brave before by someone other than my mom," Cyrus says with a chuckle. 

"She's right," I tell him. "I might've started a fight if you weren't there."

"They wouldn't have said anything if I weren't there," Cyrus states. "But it's the thought that counts, so thanks for saying that."

I laugh a little and step up farther in line. 

"How about we start this date over again," I suggest. "And I'll pay for popcorn."

"How about," he counters, "I'll pay."

The teenager working at the till waves for the next customer, which happens to be us, meaning we've run out of time to argue. But I decide I have enough time to take a shot at something else I've been wanting to do since Cyrus first kissed me.

"Well, that depends," I say. "I would never let just the guy I like pay for me. But if he were my boyfriend, I might."

Cyrus grins and takes a step forward. "Then I guess I'm paying."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm watching the umbrella academy. It's kinda a whack show, but it also kinda slaps. Now I need to do a bunch of work for school, so wish me luck. I love all of you so much. Ima just be a bit sappy and say that I appreciate you all so much, and you're the reason I write. I love being able to write for people who care. But I'm not an emotional person, so Ima end the sap there. Thank you for reading, and I'll see you with the next chapter soon.


	14. Chapter 14

**Buffy's POV**

A knock on the doorframe turns my eyes away from my image in the mirror to the boy standing in the doorway. 

He whistles and says, "Looking good. Since when do you wear makeup?"

I've been trying to choose an outfit for tonight, but I can't pick between my hot pink dress or my emerald green sweater with my black mini skirt. Putting my indecisiveness aside, I chose to do my makeup first. Marty's right to question it, though. I rarely ever wear much makeup except for special occasions. Usually it's just a bit of mascara, but he's caught me in the midst of doing my eyeliner. 

Marty steps into my room and comes over to my vanity. I set down the eyeliner on the table and turn to face him.

"How did you get inside?" I question.

"Your door was unlocked," he answers. "That's unsafe, by the way."

"You walked into my house?"

"Are you mad?" 

I try to give him a glare, but I can't keep my face straight with him smiling at me the way he is. 

"No," I respond. "But why are you here?"

"I was worried about you."

"You were worried about me?" I echo. "Too worried to ring a doorbell?"

"I did," Marty says. 

He tilts his head as if to say 'Come on.' For some reason, I find it really difficult to be mad at him. 

"I just want to know that you're okay," he says. 

I sigh and give in, going over to sit down on the bed where he comes to sit beside me. I shuffle through all the possible starting phrases, finally landing on the most straight forward, to-the-point explanation.

"TJ is my half-brother. We have the same dad."

Marty looks like he's been slapped speechless. "Damn, okay."

I burst into laughter at his response. I should've known better then to expect him to react the same way as Andi or Cyrus. He just isn't like them. 

"How's that going?" Marty asks. 

"Better than you'd think," I reply. "He's staying here while his mom is out of town, and he's actually a decent human being."

"Well, I'm glad it's working out," he says. "And I'm proud of you."

"For what?"

"For giving him the chance to change," Marty says. 

"Are you saying I'm usually stubborn?" I question.

I expect him to defend himself, so I'm shocked into laughter when he says, "Yes."

I give his arm a shove and stand up, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"I'm just particular," I argue. "I know what I want. There's nothing wrong with that."

He stands up off the red quilt and steps up to me. 

"Nothing wrong with that," he agrees. 

"So why are we fighting?" I ask.

"I'm not fighting," he says. "You're fighting."

"I am not," I say.

"Of course you're not," he finally says. "My bad."

He grins, knowing nothing's been settled, but I choose to brush it aside, going back over to my vanity to finish drawing on the eyeliner I was doing before he got here. Marty walks around to my side and watches me as I complete the wing of my left eye and put down the eyeliner. That's all I had left to do for makeup, and now I just have to do my hair, but I'll do that once Marty's gone.

I turn to face Marty, ready to continue with our conversation, but it seems like his focus is on me now as his eyes float over my face. Somehow, I can feel them touch me, even with the distance between us, and it makes my skin tingle. 

"You know you don't need that," Marty says.

"I'm allowed to want to look pretty," I tell him.

He lets himself lean against the wall, putting his hands in his pockets. I don't like when he looks at me this way; it's a look that peels down any defence I put up, making me feel vulnerable, which is something I'm not comfortable with. Strangely, he's the only person who does this to me, and I don't know why I can't combat it. 

"Yeah, but," he says softly, "you always look pretty."

Suddenly, I get scared as I feel myself getting locked in to the way his eyes are caught on me. I don't understand how he does this to me, how he makes me lose my focus and only think of him. It takes me a moment before I'm able to take a step back, breaking myself free from the trance. As I do, he turns a little to the side, seeming just as disoriented as me. 

"While you're here," I start, stepping over to my closet to take out the two outfit options I'm torn between, "which one do you like best?"

He ponders over it for a minute, but when he opens his mouth, it's a question instead of an answer. "What is this for?"

For some reason, I feel nervous about answering that. I assume it must be because I know Marty doesn't like Colton. But I never had my stomach twist like this when I told anyone else. 

"I have a date," I say. 

He seems to process that for a moment, shifting his weight from the wall back onto his two feet. It's only when he finally speaks that I realize I've been holding my breath. 

"With who?"

I open my mouth, but the response takes a second to take form. "Colton."

"Oh," he says flatly.

I expected him to be upset or just to fight me on it a little more, but he doesn't. And I'm a little disappointed, but I don't know why. I was just hoping for something more. I think maybe I wanted him to fight me on it.

"That's it?" I ask. 

"Yeah," he replies. "I'm not your mom. I'm not going to tell you what to do. And besides, you already know what I think of him."

I'm silent—speechless. I just can't seem to find a clear sentence to say. I swear I was excited about my date tonight before Marty showed up. But now that he's here, I kind of wish I could just stay here with him instead. 

While I'm in stuck thought, Marty's made his decision, answering the question I forgot I even asked. 

"The green one," he says. "Green always looks good on you."

I glance down at the two clothing hangers in my hands then go to put them back in my closet. I return to Marty, my eyes on the carpet like I'm avoiding a fire. 

"Thanks," I say, flicking my eyes up to his. 

I already know I'm not going to wear the green sweater anymore. It just doesn't feel right wearing what Marty picked out to a date with someone else. I'd rather wear that with him. But that shouldn't matter to me. 

Suddenly, Marty takes a breath and says, "I'll let you finish getting ready, then."

He turns to leave, but as he does, I feel a pull on my lungs, like stretching taffy, and it causes my breath to stutter. 

"Marty," I say abruptly, and he looks back to make eye contact with me again. I'm not sure what I was about to say, but I just felt the need to speak, so I come up with something on the spot. "I'll text you later."

"Yeah," he says, putting a slight smile on his face. "Tell me how the date goes."

He turns back again, this time actually leaving. When Marty's gone, it feels like the room has just lost all of its contents. It feels empty, even though everything else is still here around me. It's like he was the only real thing in the room. 

I think back to what I told him before and feel my stomach flip again. _Maybe I don't know what I want._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola. I got confused with an assignment, so I decided to do this instead. Great life choices, I know. Anyway, have a good day. What was the best thing that happened to you today? Also, I'm wearing an iCarly shirt, so that's cool. Did anyone else have a huge crush on Sam when they were a kid? No? Just me? Okay. Love y'all! Good night or day or mid-afternoon or whatever.


	15. Chapter 15

**Buffy's POV**   
  
  


The wind definitely contributes to the noise, although most of it is from the chatter of people around me, all excited to see whoever this concert is for. I honestly can't remember. I didn't really care about the concert as much as the boy who invited me to it. I follow the stream of bodies toward the amphitheatre, looking around for Colton.

Many people pass me, but none are the right one. He must be a bit late. I stop at the steps where we agreed to meet and scan the crowd again. A few minutes go by, and I decide to sit down, resting my elbows on my knees.

Since Marty left, I've been trying to get myself excited again for tonight, but his visit seems to have squished my positive attitude about this. I thought I wanted to go out with Colton, the boy every girl wants. I thought I wanted to be his girlfriend. I did want that. But I'm not sure I do anymore.

The more people that I see pass by me up the stairs, the less I'm searching anymore. I don't think the boy I'm waiting for is really the one I want to see. I don't know how Marty did it, but somehow he's gotten my head wrapped up in his brown eyes and the way they whittle away at my shield, making me feel exposed—but still safe. I've always felt safe with him, like he could stop a hurricane from hurting me even though I know that's insane. And maybe letting these thoughts about him swirl around in my brain is nothing more than insanity, because I know we wouldn't work out. _But why wouldn't we work out?_

By now, there's only a few people still entering the amphitheatre. The wind is cold on my bare skin, so I stuff my hands into my pockets to keep them warm. I wait until I'm the only person left outside before I let the reality of the matter sink in: I've been stood up.

I feel like I want to cry, but I can't get myself to let the tears out. I just feel so dizzy from thought that I can't fully get a grip on my emotions. I don't want to see Colton. I guess I'm glad he didn't show up, but I was expecting him to come. I expected him to see me and say some dumb pick-up line that should make me blush. I expected him to want to see me. And it burns like vinegar in a cut having that expectation crushed. _He was supposed to want me. But he doesn't. What's so wrong with me that he changed his mind? Did he ever even want to go out with me? Was this all just a joke that I was too naive to understand?_

"Excuse me, miss," comes a deep voice, and I lift my head up from the cement to see a bearded man in a security uniform looking down on me. "Are you going to go inside?"

It's at this moment that I feel a drip roll down my cheek. It feels like ice as the breeze brushes its trail.

"Probably not," I mutter.

______________________________________

**TJ's POV**   
  
  


When a knock on the door interrupts my night alone watching Seinfeld, I assume it's Buffy. I groan as I get up from the living room couch. She has a key, so why doesn't she use it?

My answer comes with the sight of Marty standing on the doorstep instead. He seems surprised at first to see me but quickly becomes comfortable with my presence.

"Marty?" I ask.

"Yo," he says. "Is Buffy home yet?"

"She's on a date," I reply, the sprinkle of bitterness audible in my voice.

Marty seems to have the same opinion as me on this date, maybe stronger, though. He frowns, his forehead wrinkled with concern.

"When's she getting back?" he asks.

"I don't know," I answer.

Marty thinks for a moment while the draft of cold air stings the warm house.

"Is it okay if I wait here for her to get home?" he asks.

I step aside and let him in before sealing off the outside from the inside. Marty kicks off his shoes and comes over to sit down on one of the chairs. I go over too, pausing the television before plopping down on the couch.

"So," I start, "why do you need to see her?" I know Marty is close with Buffy, but I'm curious as to where this sudden worry has come from.

Rather than responding, he takes his phone out from his pocket and unlocks it. Then he passes the screen over for me to see. An Instapic post glows through the glass, showing a familiar face at what looks to be a house party. He's with a girl from our grade, the two of them too close to be played off as platonic. The photo is . . . interesting to say the least. The only thing I can think of that would explain why this image is on her Instapic would be that she must be drunk. Colton wasn't the one who posted it, probably because he knew Buffy might see it. I wonder if she has. Then again, she's not home yet. I just hope she's okay.

"That prick," I mutter, passing Marty's phone back to him.

"He doesn't deserve her," Marty says, his anger colouring his voice. "I should've stopped her from going out with him. I knew it was a bad idea, but I just—I wanted to let her make her own decisions, but this was just such a bad one."

"It's not your fault," I tell Marty. "I tried to warn her about Colton, but she wouldn't listen. And it's not her fault either. Colton's the problem."

"I just don't get how he could do that to her," Marty says. "To _her._ She's the best girl he'll ever meet, and he treated her like dirt. She deserves someone who'll give her the world." Then quieter, he adds, "The way I would treat her."

I stare at this boy who's heart belongs to a girl who doesn't want it. I used to think I was in that position with Cyrus, but now everything's different. I just wish it could be that way for Marty too, but unfortunately I don't think Buffy's going to come around any time soon. Even if she did like him, she's so stubborn that it might take her months to realize how she feels.

"You really like her, don't you?" I say.

"I really do," Marty breathes. "She's just so—I don't know—perfect. She's perfect. I don't know how to describe it."

"I know what you mean," I reply.

That's how I feel about Cyrus. He's simply perfect. And I guess Buffy is Marty's Cyrus. I wonder if he likes her to the same extent. I wonder if he'd take a bullet for her the way I would for Cyrus. I wonder if Marty would throw away every relationship he has just to have one with her. I wonder if he'd give up his entire future just to be able to kiss her one time.

I bet he would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I just finished writing a paper, and I felt accomplished, so I wrote another chapter. I think it's cute. The next few are gonna be fun, so put your hard hats on. Uh, thank you everyone who comments and votes. Please comment! I love reading them! I also love you all, and I love talking to you all and hearing what you have to say, and I appreciate your continuous support. Thank you! Have a very lovely day.


	16. Chapter 16

**Buffy's POV**

The streetlight above me flickers, bringing my shadow out and in of sight. I've been thinking about what happened so long that I'm beginning to wonder if Colton ever actually asked me out. And I don't want to look at the picture again. Once is enough to see that Colton doesn't care about me. He just does whatever he wants, no matter who he hurts. 

I get up to my home, hoping only that TJ and my mother are asleep so that I don't have to face them with my head in the place it is. As embarrassing as it would be to have to talk to TJ with him knowing what just happened to me, that's not the worst case scenario. No, the worst case happens to be the real one: seeing Marty step through my front door right as I get up to the bottom of the porch. 

I freeze in my tracks. Seeing TJ would've been embarrassing, but seeing Marty is humiliating. 

"Buffy," he says. "I was waiting for you."

My hands tremble as I focus all my energy on not cracking, not crying, not in front of him. 

"So why are you leaving?" I ask, my voice so quiet I'm surprised Marty can hear it. 

"It's late," he responds. "My mom wants me home." He steps down to the bottom of the stairs, stopping right in front of me. "But first I want to make sure you're okay." 

My head is up, but my eyes are down. I don't think I can look him in the eyes, not after the realization I had while sitting alone on cold, concrete stairs. He was right about Colton. Everyone was. And I have feelings for Marty, and that's why I'm so torn. 

"I'm fine," I mutter.

He stands with my response for a moment before asking, "Did you see the post?"

"Yes. I'm fine." 

_No tears. You're doing good. Just hold it in._

"Are you sure?"

"Just mind your own business!" I snap.

 _Oh, no. Here come the tears._ A drop breaks free from my eye, and I turn away, not wanting Marty to see me cry. I don't like it when he sees me like this: vulnerable, fragile. I'm supposed to be strong. Right now, the best thing he could do for me is just leave. I want him to go.

"Buffy," he says, moving around to the side of me, "I care about you."

"Well, don't!" I shout. 

My fists are clenched by my sides, holding in them all the anger I'm trying not to release. But my tense voice is trying to expose me, and I don't want Marty around any longer to see me break down. When I finally look him in the eyes, I immediately regret it. He looks broken, like I just shot a bullet through his chest. 

"What?" he croaks, the word so quiet yet so piercing in my mind. 

I swallow hard and stare him in the eyes as I say, "Just go home."

Marty's eyes turn into ice in an instant, and now I feel like I'm the one who's been shot. His worry is still there but only under the layer of disappointment he's presenting forth. He has the right to be mad at me. I'm being awful to him. But it's too late for me to take it back. 

"Fine," he says. "I'll go."

Marty walks past me and down the driveway. He doesn't pause to give me a last glance; he just keeps walking. Once he's gone from my vision, I force myself to turn around and go up the stairs. Every step feels like a chore. I just drove away the one person I wanted more than anyone, simply because I was too proud to be wrong. 

My hand shakes as I reach for the doorknob and push open the door. Carefully, I close it behind me and spin around. Sitting on the couch is the second person I didn't want to see, but I'm hardly concerned with how he sees me anymore. The instant we make eye contact, I feel something inside me snap, and I burst into tears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. This is insanely short, but I just felt like this was the best place to end the chapter. The rest of the chapters won't be this short. I love y'all. Have a good night!


	17. Chapter 17

**TJ's POV**   
  
  


I spring onto my feet the instant I see the tears start coming down. I've never once seen Buffy cry—ever. I always thought she was invincible, like the equivalent of a cement barricade, but I guess even those can crack if hit hard enough. But Buffy isn't just cracked; she's crumbling like sand, and all I can do is catch her as she falls forward, throwing her arms around me, and hope no pieces break off. Her sobbing is paired with heaves for breath, which are loud in my ear as she hugs me like I'm the only thing holding her upright, which, honestly, I might be. It feels like my arms are lifting all of her weight, plus some extra emotional stuff. I've never hugged Buffy before, and I didn't expect we'd be close enough as to ever exceed a friendly high five, but it appears we've passed the uncomfortable new sibling line and dropped right into the kind of siblings who carry each others burdens to ease the load, and I don't mind it at all.

"It's okay," I say, not sure what else to do. "Colton's a jerk who doesn't deserve you."

She lets me go, regaining her own balance. Her eye makeup smudges as she wipes the tears from her eyes.

"This isn't about Colton," she huffs.

I assumed this must be about him. She just got home from a date he never showed up to. The only other person she would've talked to before me was— Oh.

"It's Marty?" I ask.

Rather than replying, she trudges past me and plummets down on the couch, curling up in a ball with her head on the pillow. Since she's taking up the whole sofa, I sit on the chair across from her.

"TJ, how did everything get so complicated?" she whines.

"Well, what did you do?" I question.

"I told him to stop caring about me!" she wails. "I'm a fucking idiot!"

"Why did you tell him to do that?"

"Didn't you hear me? Because I'm a fucking idiot."

"Okay, yeah, but what were the circumstances?"

She takes a moment of silence, and when she speaks again, her voice is much quieter. "I like him."

"So you told him to stop caring about you," I restate. "That makes sense."

Buffy sits up to look at me straight, crying, "Why are you not taking me seriously?"

"I am," I tell her. "I'm just not worried. Buffy, Marty's liked you since he met you. You yelling at him once isn't going to make those feelings disappear."

"You didn't hear the way I spoke to him—"

"You didn't hear the way _he_ spoke to _me_ ," I interrupt, "about you. He really likes you."

She lets that sink in. I know when it has, because her frown lifts into a tiny smile, but then it fades again almost instantaneously.

"I really like him," she mutters. "I screwed everything up. I didn't want him to see me lookig weak, so I pushed him away, and now he's probably mad at me. I don't know how he could forgive me."

I stand up and go over to sit down next to her. I stretch out my arm to rub her shoulder, and she lets her head fall on me, accepting my gesture to comfort her. It's curious how we went from enemies to friends in just over a day. To think, if we hadn't found out we were related, we'd probably still be hating each other indefinitely.

She finishes her sniffling and straightens up, out from my arm.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I never even asked you how your date went."

"Don't worry about it, I reply. "It was good."

I debate whether or not to tell her about the guys from our school and what they said about Cyrus and I, but I decide now is not the time for her to have more things to think about. 

"But you seem like you need to vent right now more than I need to talk," I say.

Buffy smiles and lifts her knees up to her chest, resting her feet so that her toes hang off the edge of the chesterfield. 

"TJ, are you just pretending to care about me, or are you being genuine?" she asks. "Because before yesterday, I would've loved if you were upset. The only difference now is that we're related, but even that is hardly true. I mean, we don't even have the same last name."

I don't really need to think it over, but, for her sake, I act as though I don't have my reason planned out perfectly in my head.

"Sure, we have different last names, but you're still my sister."

"Half-sister," Buffy corrects me.

She's not one to be sappy, nor is she one to let people in easily, so I'm not offended by her quick redirection of my words.

"Close enough," I say with a shrug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another really short one, just because I have bigger plans for the rest of the story, and I felt like this needed to be its own part. Anyway, I love y'all. Thanks for reading. Question of the day: what's something you're really passionate about, belief-wise?


	18. Chapter 18

**TJ's POV**   
  
  


This must be strange for anyone who knows us to see: two enemies walking side by side. We come down the last block, and Buffy's officially run out of topics to keep me from asking the obvious question.

"Are you going to talk to Marty?"

"I, uh—wish I knew how to do that," she replies.

"You just go up to him and say, 'Hey, Marty. I want to apologize—'"

"It's not that easy," she cuts me off. "I didn't lose his pencil. I told him to get out of my life. How do I apologize for that?"

"Like this. 'I'm sorry.'"

"You know I'm not good at those words," she mutters.

"Yeah, I know."

As we step onto the grass surrounding the school, I see Cyrus wave to us, and it lights a smile on my face instantly. Just a little left of him, Buffy's love interest talks with some of his friends.

"Well, no time for practice," I say. "There he is."

Buffy stops walking at stares at him as though suddenly unable to think about anything else.

"I guess it's now or never," she says, probably more to herself than to me.

That's when Marty spots her, and Buffy raises her hand to wave, but rather than waving back, Marty simply frowns and turns away, going off in the opposite direction. I can feel Buffy's heart break as she takes in a shaky breath. She bites her lip, looking as though she's about to cry.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Yup," she insists.

"Do you need a hug?"

"Nope."

"Okay."

After us not going over to him, Cyrus comes to us. Buffy puts on a fake smile, and somehow Cyrus doesn't see through it. He might be a bit too preoccupied with looking at me as he reaches out for my hand. I let him slip his fingers through mine before I remember where we are. Then I retrieve my hand, and a frown flashes on Cyrus' face.

"Sorry," I whisper. "I just—"

"Lookie here," comes a mocking voice. "It's Kippen and his boyfriend."

Cyrus' eyes flick to where the boys stand behind me, rude looks on their faces, not trying to hide their disgust. In fact, it's so exaggerated that a few bystanders have stopped to learn what the commotion is about.

"I bet if the team knew, they wouldn't have wanted a gay as their captain," says another boy.

Buffy glares at the guys chatting behind me, but Cyrus keeps his eyes firm on me.

"Don't let them get to you," he says softly. "Be the bigger person."

I nod and try to take a breath, but my anger makes it too rocky to calm me down.

"Don't let him play in the next match," a third joins in. "He won't be on his game. He'll be on his boyfriend."

That's what pushes Buffy over the line.

"Yeah, well, I'm sick of being the bigger person," Buffy growls.

I spin around to watch as Buffy marches up to the group of boys talking. They all turn to her, looking a bit taken aback by her appearance.

"Shut the fuck up," she orders them.

The boys exchange confused glances, but only one dares to talk back to Buffy.

"Why are you defending him?" Jason questions.

"I heard that Kippen's her half-brother, Jason," the one to his left, Gavin, says.

Buffy's next words come out so quick and so naturally that I think for a second I misheard her.

"He's my brother," she states. "And I swear to god, if you keep bothering him, I'll break that stupid fucking smile of yours."

Gavin looks at her like she's crazy. "Relax. We're just giving him a hard time."

"Well your version of giving him a hard time sounds a lot like being an asshole."

The rest of the guys match Gavin's expression and collectively step back and eventually turn away. I hear one of them whisper, "Jesus," as he goes.

Having won the battle, Buffy strides back to us, but she doesn't have the expected smug look of pride on her face.

"Thanks," I say to her.

"Don't worry about it," she responds. "I want _someone_ to have a good relationship."

I wonder if she is even aware of what she called me, for she shows no sign of anything being different. But this is different, and I can't help but smile.

"You called me your brother," I mention.

She turns her eyes to me, giving me a small smile as she responds, "That's what you are."

___________________________________

**Buffy's POV**   
  
  


I shove my books into my locker. My morning classes were basically normal, except that I couldn't focus for the life of me. I never really realized the impact a simple crush could have on my brain. But, then again, I guess this isn't a simple crush. This is an implosion of overwhelming feeling, and I have no idea how to control it. I try to think about anything other than him, but I seem to be incapable of that.

All of a sudden, a stern voice slaps me out of my mopey haze.

"Well, Colton's a jerk," Kaitlin says, leaning against the locker next to me. "I can't believe he did that to you. I hope he falls down a well and drowns."

This is classic Kaitlin. She has an interesting, very frank way of trying to make me feel better. What she doesn't realize is that Colton's not the reason I'm so down today.

"Kaitlin," I start, "that's not—"

"Buffy, don't turn around," she interrupts.

I ignore her command and glance back to see what I'm not supposed to see. Colton is stepping into the hallway, parting the sea of people with his presence. He doesn't look at me. I wonder if he even knows I'm here.

"Buffy!" she hisses.

"Kaitlin, it's fine," I insist. "I don't care about Colton."

Kaitlin looks confused. "But I thought you liked him."

I take a breath then respond, "I think I likes the idea of him more than I liked him. But there's someone else."

"Who?"

That's when I see the answer walk through the hall. He stops for a moment, keeping a distance as his eyes flicker over to me. I start to raise a small smile, but he looks away too soon, continuing past me without a word.

I sigh, my eyes still stuck on Marty. "Someone with whom I screwed things up really badly."

___________________________________

I find my feet halting at the base of the driveway. There, I wish I could just keep walking, but I can't get my body to listen, and it instead spins to face the lovely home. The tulips look marvelous now that I can see them planted firmly in their place. Maybe I can use that as my excuse for why I've been standing here for at least five minutes now, debating whether or not to go up to the door, if someone happens to ask what I'm doing. I should just go back home. He doesn't want to see me.

Right as I'm about to turn around, the door rattles open, but the boy who steps out isn't Marty. It's Grayson, looking relieved to see me.

"Good, you're here," he says. "He's been listening to a bunch of sad rap songs on repeat, and it's bringing me down."

Grayson gives my shoulder a pat as he passes me, heading toward his car. I take a breath and start toward the house, but Grayson stops me.

"He's not home," he calls.

"He's not?"

"He went on a walk about twenty or so minutes ago. Sorry, man."

He ducks into his car and shuts the door. The engine fades as he turns a corner, making the lack of any kind of breeze stand out that much more. Silence is a dangerous thing for a troubled girl with a loud head.

I swallow hard, trying to shush the voices of regret, but they're stronger than me, forcing their way to the front, screaming that I shouldn't have come here, because Marty doesn't like me. He could never like someone like me. It took me far too long to figure out my feelings for him. It's unfair to him that I come now asking for him to like me when I had so many chances but threw those away.

I take a step back in the direction from which I came, toward my home, but I'm stopped again, this time by a certain voice that causes my throat to tighten.

"Buffy?" Marty shouts.

Slowly, I turn to face him. He comes up the sidewalk, a clear look of distress on his face. He stops about four metres away from me. The distance feels like some kind of punishment. I suppose I deserve it.

"Marty, I . . ." I can't focus being this far away, so I step up a bit closer. "I was stupid. You were trying to help me, and I treated you like dirt. You mean so much to me, more than I realized, and I never want to lose you. I'm sorry."

I see a small smile cross his face, and it eases the stiffness in my body.

"Thanks," he responds.

His eyes stay on mine, heating up like fire between us, and I want to let this tension out. But I stand motionless for a little too long as I try to weigh the risks versus benefits of doing such a thing.

"Is that all you wanted to do?" he asks me.

"No," I reply. "I also want to do this."

I step in and kiss him. We both caught off guard at first, him by my action, and me by my sudden spark of confidence. Then he brings me in closer so that my body is up against his, and I swear he must be able to feel my heart thumping. When he lets me go, I can't help but smile.

"You stole my idea," Marty says.

"So what you're saying is," I say, "I was faster?"

"Rematch?" he suggests.

I grin and go in to kiss him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. I posted this on Wattpad already but forgot to post it here too. I still love you guys, though, so don't worry. Have a good day!


	19. Chapter 19

**TJ's POV**

"If you ever wanna play some one-on-one, let me know," Buffy says.

"For sure," I respond. "I'm always up for a game."

Buffy sits on the edge of my bed. She helps me out by folding my clothes before passing them to me to put in my bag. My mom will be here any minute to pick me up and take me back home, but this place was just starting to feel like a second home. I stuff the neatly folded shirt into the bag, crumpling Buffy's hard work, but I'm too wound in my own thoughts to notice. She holds out another shirt but I don't take it.

"You okay?" she asks. 

"Do you think our dad will ever come back?" I wonder. 

She tosses the last shirt into my bag and purses her lips. 

"He's dead to me, so I don't care," she mutters. 

"You don't mean that," I say. "He's family."

"He's a man who left me. He didn't want to see me grow up or be a part of my life at all. That's not family," she states. "You're family."

I give her a smile, but I can feel her anger floating around her. I don't want her to hold onto this the way she is, but she's not ready to let it go. I only get some comfort in knowing that I will be able to be there to help her when she is ready. 

Suddenly, the sound of an engine rolls up from outside, and Buffy stands up to peer out the window. 

"Your mom's here," she says. 

I finish stuffing all my clothes into my bag and zip it shut. It rubs against my jeans and I carry it down to the front door where Buffy says another goodbye. She unlocks the door and I step onto the porch, recalling standing here days ago back when I was preparing myself to feel miserable. Now it's calm and familiar. I turn to Buffy and give her one last wave before she closes the door, and I step down toward the car. When I reach it, my mother has the trunk open, and I toss my bag in then find my seat in the passenger's side. My mom starts the ignition and takes her foot off the breaks, letting the car start its roll away from Buffy's house. 

"How was it?" she asks as we pick up speed going through the neighbourhood. 

"It . . . She's not as bad as I expected," I admit. 

"I'm glad to hear that," my mother replies. 

While my mom focuses on the road, I take my phone out of my pocket, open up my messages, and start typing.

 **TJ:** If you aren't afraid to lose, basketball at the park at 7:00?

A few seconds later, I get a response. 

**Buffy:** You're on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I finally finished it! Thank you all for reading this story, and I hoped you liked it. Let me know what your favorite part was in the comments. I'll be working on The Kippens now. Followed by a new ambi story (once I finish making the plot outline). Bye!


End file.
